


google this: how to unsend

by pinkberrygeek



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Bisexual Sokka, Coming Out, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Homestuck Style Writing, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Second Person, Past Maiko, Romance, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Texting, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, sokka has a BI PANIC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27520201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkberrygeek/pseuds/pinkberrygeek
Summary: Sokka: okay FINE you were rightSokka: i MIGHT be biSokka: and i MIGHT like himSokka: stupid brooding tendencies asideSokka: he’s kind of cute when he smilesSokka: ARE YOU HAPPY NOWunknown: i’m never happy.unknown: also who is this?ORSokka has a Bi Panic™ and accidentally sends a coming out text to Zuko.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 65
Kudos: 418





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple things to note!
> 
> As the stars of this fic,  
>  **Sokka's messages will be bold.**  
>  _Zuko's will be in italics._  
>  Everyone else's, including the default chat logs, will be normal. 
> 
> The writing style in this fic is largely inspired by Homestuck (created by Andrew Hussie) and I don't know how well this is going to work in the long run especially with all the formatting, but I hope the story's easily digestible anyway. 
> 
> It would be best to read this fic on your mobile, but if you're using a PC, it might be easier to reduce the width of your browser to read the chat logs.

**== > Be Sokka.**

Be the man you always knew you'd be. 

You've spent the whole weekend thinking about what Toph said. And despite the number of ladies you've so effortlessly charmed throughout the entirety of your high school career, this is college and a whole new playing field that even you can't comprehend. Everything's different now. 

You're different now.

And that's... okay.

So you decide to concede defeat.

Well, okay. It's not _really_ a battle or anything, but Toph is very confrontational and you always have to be on your guard.

✉

\-- Sokka started messaging [unknown] at 02:33 hrs --

**okay FINE you were right**

**i MIGHT be bi**   
**and i MIGHT like him**

**stupid brooding tendencies aside**   
**he’s kind of cute when he smiles**

**ARE YOU HAPPY NOW???**

_i’m never happy._

_also who is this?_

**haha VEEEERY funny toph**

_you mean Toph Beifong?_

_i don’t know what you’re trying to pull,_   
_but i am definitely not her._

**wait what**

**are you serious**

_yes._

_check my number smartass._

**… fuck**

**oh my god i’m soooooo sorry**

**i don’t save contact info**

**like EVER**

_you should._

_it’s a great way to not_ _embarrass yourself._

**lol never thought i’d be** **snarked at by a rando tonight**

**kinda hurt ngl**

_and i never expected to receive_ _a coming out text from a stranger…_

_yet here we are._

**well fuck me sideways**

**this is the worst thing that’s happened to me since the boomerang incident**

_wait… is this Sokka?_

**OH SHIT SO U DO KNOW ME**

**OH MY GOD U GO TO MY SCHOOL**

**WHO DIS???**

**PLEASE TELL ME**

**I NEED TO SWEAR YOU TO SECRECY**

_you’re very persistent._

_most people would have_ _stopped responding by now._

**well jfc of course i am**

**it’s not every day you text a stranger** **thinking it’s a close friend about** **your (kinda) crush on the hottest** **guy in school** **and said stranger turns out to also** **know about THE boomerang incident  
**

**those were the dark days**

_that’s rough, buddy._

_also… it’s hard not to know about something_   
_when I was the one who got hit on the head._

**no….**

**oh my god**

**is this Zuko Sozin???**

\-- [unknown] has blocked you from responding. --

**Fuck**  
[! MESSAGE NOT SENT]

**== > Be dramatic.**

You throw yourself onto your bed and scream into your pillow with as much dignity as you can. 

This is the last time you'll ever attempt to share your feelings over text. A voice at the back of your head which sounds suspiciously like Katara chastises you for your dumbass decision. Why didn't you just call? Save yourself the embarrassment? The clock by the bedside of your crappy dormitory-issued bed reminds you that it's way too early to be calling anybody, let alone Toph, who would have beat your ass into the dirt for waking her at this ungodly hour. Texting was much safer... or so you had thought.

You decide to do the next best thing and text your sister. 

Maybe she'll have some kind words to spare?

\-- Sokka saved [unknown] as [Bossy Showboat] --

\-- Sokka renamed [Bossy Showboat] to [Katara] --

✉

\-- Sokka started messaging [Katara] at 02:45 hrs --

**um**

**so i might drown myself in the tub ltr**

**do NOT try to save me**

**let me go in peace**

K.

You knew you could count on her. 

**== > Be Zuko.**

What the fuck was that?

You scowl at your phone and spin around on your squeaky desk chair, ignoring the essay you'd been writing so smoothly until Sokka, aka the guy who'd nailed you on the back of your head with his stupid boomerang during orientation camp, decided to wreak havoc on your 'delicate emotional sensibilities' via text message. You term it that way because it's what Azula always says about your personality, no matter how much you vehemently disagree. 

Still. You did the right thing, blocking him. 

~~You briefly wonder who Sokka thinks is the 'hottest guy in school'.~~

Hopefully, this means you'll never have to speak to him again. 

**=== > Get back to writing that essay.**

Of course, you don't go back to writing your essay.

You need to rant about this, get this stupid conversation out of your system and that boy out of your head. Your therapist has drilled into you that bottling things up is Bad. You are trying to follow her advice to avoid any more unsolicited breakdowns, so you _definitely_ don't dismiss her words like garbage. Also, therapy is expensive.

In another rash, poorly-thought-out decision, you unlock your phone and decide to send a message to one of the only people you consider a friend, who also happens to be your ex-girlfriend you ended up dumping right after prom when finally coming to the grand realization that you were hopelessly, shamefully gay. 

You were still friends though. Miraculously enough. Friends, with lots of emotional baggage and charged tension because you're sure she never stopped loving you even after all that. 

✉

\-- Zuko started messaging [Mai] at 03:11 hrs --

_you’re not going to believe what just happened._

if i’m not going to believe it  
then why bother telling me? 

_sokka just texted me_

_i don’t even know how he got my number_

who? 

_you know that kid from Alaska with the_ _sister Azula always talks shit about?_

oh, them. 

why would he text you? 

_he didn’t._   
_well, didn’t mean to._

lol 

_why are you laughing?_

_also, i blocked him_

i'm not. 

y? what did he say

_actually_

_you know what just forget it_

gee zuko

i wonder why we broke up?  
you're such a great talker. 

_... sorry Mai_

whatever

You decide to put your phone away before you do any more damage. 

Why were you so bad at being good? It seems like every time you try to open up about your feelings, you end up causing hurt to yourself and those around you. Maybe you liked it. Maybe, you were a masochist at heart. That would explain a lot of the poor decision making throughout the entirety of your young life. 

You're just glad you have Mom and Uncle Iroh to ground you from the potentially life-threatening ones. 

**== > Go to bed.**

You lie down and end up staring at the water-damaged ceiling of your crappy apartment till 6:00 AM. 

You hate your life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw if you're wondering how Toph reads and writes texts, it's explained in the next chapter.  
> And The Gaang gets involved. This is going to be a shit show.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Sokka considering switching schools and spilling the beans to the Gaang.

**== > Be the kid with the dumb ponytail.**

You’re the ADULT with the really COOL WOLF-tail and you’re not really sure how to get about your day. It’s been exactly seven hours and thirty-five minutes since you committed social suicide by texting the object of your (hopefully low-key) affections. There’s a class you need to get to by 11:00 AM, but you don’t have it in you to care. 

Wallowing in your bed for the rest of the day, or even the week, seems like a much better option. Maybe you’ll quit school. Move to another state. Frolicking in fields of maize while singing _The Hills are Alive_ like Julie Andrews did from that one movie Katara used to love so much. A fresh start! What a great idea. You give yourself a well-deserved pat on the back. Still the plan guy.

You ignore the fact that you’re already in your third-year, with only a year left to go.

Never one to keep your awesome plans to yourself, you decide to break the exciting news to your friends, via a group chat conveniently available (within reasonable hours) for emotional support. 

✉

\-- [Sokka] started messaging [Group Chat: The Friend Gaang] at 10:08 hrs –-

**[Sokka]: so i have news!**

**[Sokka]: fantastic news in fact**

[Toph]: What.

[Aang]: morning guys!

[Aang]: what’s up Sokka? :)

[Suki]: uh oh

[Katara]: Definitely uh oh.

[Katara]: Does this have anything to do with you trying to drown yourself?

[Katara]: Btw I was late to class and you got my skirt wet.

[Katara]: You’ve lost all tub rights for the week.

**[Sokka]: KATARA SHUSH**

**[Sokka]: let ur big bro speak**

**[Sokka]: ive decided to change schools**

**[Sokka]: move to the countryside maybe**

**[Sokka]: get some of that fresh air everyone’s so jazzed about**

**[Sokka]: this school is toxic**

[Aang]: wow Sokka… this is big!

[Aang]: but you’re joking right?

[Aang]: it wouldn’t be the same without you :c

[Suki]: sokka, what is this really about?

[Suki]: i hope you haven’t been drinking cactus juice again

**[Sokka]: THAT WAS ONE TIME!!!**

**[Sokka]: also what do you mean what is this about**

**[Sokka]: i just told you guys**

[Toph]: He’s lying.

**[Sokka]: why do you always feel the need to do that**

[Toph]: Because it’s fun.

[Toph]: Also, shame on you for trying to lie to a blind girl.

[Toph]: And Suki’s right, what is this really about?

[Toph]: Wait.

[Toph]: Is this about you-know-what?

**[Sokka]: NO**

[Toph]: Yes.

[Toph]: Now spill. What did you do?

**[Sokka]: NOTHING**

[Katara]: Oh you’re definitely onto something, Toph.

[Katara]: Sokka just tell us.

[Katara]: There are no secrets between friends, and especially not between siblings.

[Toph]: And not when I’m around.

[Toph]: None of you can lie to me for nuts, even over text.

[Toph]: Maybe Suki, but that's because she's equally sharp.

[Suki]: aww, thanks Toph! <3

[Aang]: guys, I think Sokka might be genuinely upset.

[Aang]: let's all promise that whatever you have to say will stay secret.

[Aang]: we’re all here for you! :) you can tell us anything

Bless Aang and his pure little vegetarian heart. You’re pleasantly reminded why the group chat has been named after him. He’s the nicest person you know. You really might cry, not because you’re overly emotional, but because Aang’s kind words are like a soothing balm on your already frazzled soul.

Feeling encouraged, you decide to start the grim retelling of the newest most embarrassing moment of your life.

**[Sokka]: i texted Zuko last night**

**[Sokka]: u know, Zuko Sozin?**

**[Sokka]: angsty, brooding guy from the law programme**

**[Sokka]: guy drives a Porsche**

**[Sokka]: with the evil sister katara and suki always complains about**

[Katara]: Wait WHAT????

[Katara]: WHY???

[Suki]: i didn’t know you knew zuko!

[Suki]: he hardly talks to anyone outside the sc

[Suki]: actually

[Suki]: he doesn’t even talk to ME, and i’m on it

**[Sokka]: … it might’ve been an accident**

**[Sokka]: also, i’m not sure how i got his number???**

[Suki]: did you send your RSVP for the spring dance via text?

[Suki]: zuko’s the sc mbr handling the headcount

[Suki]: you probably got his number off the poster we put in the cafeteria

You take a moment to pause and check _the_ mortifying conversation with Zuko. Zuko Sozin. And yes, you saved his number even though he blocked you. One could never be too careful, certainly not after an experience like that.

And whaddya’ know. Suki’s right. She always is. 

You’d sent ‘YES’ along with your student ID to the number specified on the Student Council’s poster about the Spring Dance in the hopes of getting some tail and never deleted the chat, leaving it at the top of your list. You sigh, trying and failing not to be deeply disappointed with your lack of eyesight. Even Toph wouldn’t have made a mistake that stupid. You wonder if she’s willing to share the expensive programme her parents had custom-built into her phone to help her text. The one that narrated everything your eyes couldn’t catch and read out your contacts before you sent them. You’re sure she’ll laugh in your face if you ask, so you scratch that thought.

And to think you made it into Mechanical Engineering in Republic U.

**[Sokka]: yeap sure looks like it**

**[Sokka]: kill me now**

**[Sokka]: katara why have u never nagged me about saving contact info b4**

**[Sokka]: this is all your fault**

[Katara]: Well I’ve kept you alive all this time, haven’t I?

**[Sokka]: fair point**

[Toph]: YOU DID NOT.

[Toph]: I CAN’T BELIEVE IT.

[Toph]: HAHAHA

[Toph]: Did I hit the caps lock button right?

[Toph]: I wanted to emphasize how funny this is.

[Aang]: you did Toph! :)

[Toph]: Nice.

[Katara]: Okay, ENOUGH.

[Katara]: Sokka, it can’t possibly have been that bad.

[Katara]: Zuko’s an ass, but he’s an ass that doesn’t care.

[Katara]: You’re being so dramatic.

**[Sokka]: ok u know what**

**[Sokka]: fine**

**[Sokka]: i was going to text toph and tell her**

**[Sokka]: she was right**

**[Sokka]: i really think i am bi**

**[Sokka]: and i might like the guy she thinks i like**

**[Sokka]: not bcz i think being gay isn’t ok of course**

**[Sokka]: but more bcz i have a hard time accepting change**

**[Sokka]: about myself**

**[Sokka]: i mean you all knew that already**

**[Sokka]: (again, i apologize for anything sexist ive previously said or might say)**

**[Sokka]: bcz im dumb sometimes**

[Aang]: aww :) that was so wholesome!

[Toph]: See, isn’t it better being honest with yourself?

[Toph]: Good job, Snoozles!

[Suki]: that’s ok sokka

[Suki]: we’ll always be here to straighten you out!

[Suki]: and, i’m really glad you told us <3

[Suki]: as a lesbian myself, i welcome you to the club good sir

**[Sokka]: why thank you ma’am im glad to be here**

[Katara]: I love you no matter what, Sokka.

[Katara]: Also I kind of already knew? Sorry.

[Katara]: !!!

[Katara]: WAIT, YOU SENT ALL OF THAT TO ZUKO?!

**[Sokka]: ye**

[Katara]: OMG no wonder you’re freaking out!

[Katara]: He’s probably going to share those texts with Azula…

[Katara]: I have to stop this.

[Katara]: Don’t worry, Sokka. I’ll go talk to Azula after class.

[Katara]: Maybe she’ll listen… if I ask nicely.

**[Sokka]: yeah, no, you’re probs gonna end up threatening her**

**[Sokka]: and then she’ll REALLY make our lives miserable**

**[Sokka]: so pls don’t**

[Toph]: Zuko’s not like that.

[Toph]: I’m sure he’s blocked you or something by now.

**[Sokka]: HOW DID YOU KNOW**

**[Sokka]: toph seriously**

**[Sokka]: are you magic**

[Toph]: No I’m not, dumbass.

[Toph]: Though I did have a brief conversation with him once before I met you guys.

[Toph]: He helped me get to class on my first day. He was awkward and quiet.

[Toph]: But he was also very sweet.

[Katara]: Oh Toph… I had no idea.

[Suki]: i agree with toph!

[Suki]: he’s kinda emo but he doesn’t really seem like the type

[Suki]: to get a kick out of blackmailing people or w/e

[Suki]: he’s also really hardworking and gets everything done on time

[Suki]: and i think AZULA might be the one who scares HIM

[Toph]: Yeah, he didn’t make a big deal out of me being blind either.

[Toph]: He just introduced himself, took my schedule and led me to class.

[Toph]: I never spoke to him again after that. Shame, really.

[Aang]: that’s so nice of him!

[Aang]: see sokka? don’t worry too much!

[Aang]: there’s good in everybody

[Aang]: and I’m sure zuko would respect your privacy

[Aang]: he probably hasn’t told anyone

[Aang]: so please don’t leave? :c

[Aang]: we would miss you!

You feel a little bit of hope rising in your chest. And a blush across your cheeks.

Zuko was sweet? The thought makes your heart pound. In a good way of course. 

Maybe you’ll make it to class after all.

**[Sokka]: thanks guys**

**[Sokka]: not to be emotional or anything but**

**[Sokka]: ily all sm**

[Aang]: we love you too sokka!

[Toph]: Yuck.

[Katara]: Awww.

[Suki]: lol <3 likewise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of story progression! But I hope you all had fun reading the Gaang's online dynamic.  
> I hc Suki using <3! Is that OOC? And do I care? Probably not.  
> And Toph ends her sentences with full-stops because of the programme she uses. 
> 
> Next chapter: Zuko being an awkward turtleduck, as usual. Things can only go uphill from here... right?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka and Zuko finally Have A Moment. Let's all hope they don't screw this up.

**== > Be the kid with the scar. **

You’re not sure how to feel about your obvious disfigurement but it’s been so long since you’ve had it, you repress the thought like everything else in your crappy life.

It was ugly, you were ugly, and you had accepted that. 

**== > Try not to be emo about it. **

You don’t know why people think you’re ‘emo’, but you spend the rest of the hour before rolling out of bed thinking about it anyway, accompanied with unpleasant flashbacks to life under Father’s roof and the entirety of your childhood being tormented by Azula. 

You think too much sometimes. Another one of your flaws. The remembrance of this fact makes you feel worse than usual.

**== > Okay we’re SORRY. Please stop being sad. **

Sorry for what? Also, you don’t know where these odd prompts are coming from, and you sincerely hope you’re not beginning to hear voices in your head on top of all the other shit you have to deal with. Azula had, back when she was younger. When Mom left.

And despite how much she scared you—she still does—you’re glad she turned out okay.

Nevertheless, you get off your ass and get dressed, taking a hot shower and yanking on your favourite maroon sweater, and a pair of thermal jeans. This sweater is your favourite article of clothing. It’s easily two sizes too big for you, but you like it's warm and fuzzy texture. The weather is still freezing, and you can’t wait for it to finally be spring. 

**== > Head to class. **

You head to class, avoiding eye contact with everyone within range. Not to say you don’t _notice_ them. As a member of Republic University’s esteemed Student Council, you have to keep up with the status quo (or so Azula says) and monitor social interactions on campus which directly impact how the Student Council makes decisions about events and fundraisers. 

How _Azula_ makes decisions, really. She’s the one who calls all the shots, despite being a freshman. You’re still resentful of how she manages to be perfect at everything she does, and how she manages to bend people to her will. 

They fear her. Respect her. But they definitely don’t fear or respect you. 

Your Mom has always told you that fear could never outshine love. People could see through facades, and eventually, the kindness in your heart would shine through you like sunbeams. 

You’ve been _trying_ to be kind but coupled with your traumatising childhood, social anxiety and uncontrollable, god-awful temper, you don’t think you have much of it left to spare for yourself, let alone strangers you don’t know. 

You don’t even have any real friends, after three years of going here, and those who talk to you only do it out of necessity. Presentations are a nightmare. People whisper sometimes when you walk by, and the younger girls like to throw you weird looks—then giggle about it in gaggles—which of course, disturbs you to no end. They’re plotting something, you think.

To everyone, you’ll always be known as ‘Azula’s anti-social older brother’, and despite how much you’ve hated being overshadowed by her your whole life, there really isn’t much you can do to change things now. 

**== > Watch your step! **

You _don’t_ watch your step, caught up in your unhappy, self-loathing thoughts, and your foot catches on the edge of the stairs, sending you sprawling painfully onto your knees against the concrete footpath. 

You wince, feeling your legs scream upon impact, and your palms burning even before you check them. 

They’re scraped up from the unforgiving concrete, and already bleeding. 

Great.

Just another fantastic start to another fantastic day. 

**== > Be the other guy. The one with the bad jokes. **

You see Zuko tripping over air. _That’s gotta hurt_. The man takes a nasty spill, dropping all his books _and_ his phone, which skids to a stop at your feet. 

Holy shit did the universe really have it out for you!

First last night, and now this?

Spirits! If only you hadn’t stuck around after class to chit-chat with Professor Piandao. You could’ve been back in your dorm by now, blissfully unaware and playing Mario Kart with your other roommate, Haru. 

You’re not sure what to do—you’re alone, and you don’t know anyone in the nearby vicinity who could return his phone on your behalf. You also don’t think you can leave without igniting the curiosity and wagging tongues of nosy bystanders. After all, you were a notoriously nice guy, celebrated quarterback of the football team, and people were DEFINITELY looking at you like they expected you to go help.

And if you didn’t, they’d say shit like “oh my, what kind of jackass just ups and leaves after seeing someone take a fall like that? What a huge douche!” (You ignore the little voice in your head saying that even if the quad _had_ been empty, you would have foolishly stuck around to help anyway). 

So resigning yourself to your fate, you reach down and retrieve Zuko’s phone with shaky fingers. It’s nice and shiny, its screen miraculously undamaged. Zuko has the latest iPhone, and the most expensive one, judging from its size. No surprise there. You knew his sister Azula was a rich kid—she wore only designer clothing (Katara told you), and if the rumours were true, she lived in a swanky penthouse apartment uptown. _And_ Zuko drove a Porsche, so yeah, they were both loaded for sure.

You are flabbergasted when you turn the phone around and see his phone cover—wooden back, with a print depicting a cute _turtleduck,_ waddling in a pond with large, cutey, oogie eyes. _Love, Mom_ , it says in silver paint, minute-writing at the bottom left corner.

Holding the phone in your already sweaty palm, you take the first step towards the disgruntled object of your affections.

You sure hope he doesn’t ignore you. Your soul might actually wither if he does. 

**== > Zuko: stare dumbly at the hand offered to you.**

You don’t, because hey, you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough for today.

Taking the offered limb, you’re pulled to your feet only to then stare dumbly at Sokka’s face instead, the same guy who’d (maybe?) unintentionally gave you a concussion back in freshman year. The same guy you’d blocked early this morning after an unsolicited conversation you’re sure you’ll never quite forget. 

You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

“Can I help you?” Are the first words out of your mouth and see? _This_ is why you don’t have friends. He’s helping _you_ , and you’re already throwing his help back in his face.

“Uh…” Sokka looks just as dumb as you feel. “This is yours…?”

He’s holding your phone in his other hand, the one not clutching onto you like a vice. It makes you immediately feel like shit, despite also feeling grossed out by his sweaty palm against yours. Had he really just been trying to help?

Then you wince when Sokka tightens his grip on your already raw and bleeding palm.

You try not to let the pain show, but of course, he notices.

“Holy shit you’re bleeding.” Sokka gawks when he finally lets go, staring at _your_ blood on his palms. He has nice hands, and it was a shame he had to get dirtied helping you. It was almost symbolic, in a way. Suddenly you feel drained, and you think you might need a nap. 

“I know,” you accept your phone gingerly when it's handed over. “It’s fine.”

You remember your manners and mumble a quick _thanks_ under your breath.

**== > Leave.**

Sokka steps directly into your path when you try to abscond. You scowl again, assuming the worst and getting ready for a confrontation about your bad attitude. It wouldn’t be the first time, wouldn’t _ever_ be the last—but you definitely didn’t the energy for any of this shit right now.

“Get out of my way,” you snap impatiently.

“You’re bleeding,” Sokka says again and you snort at his brilliant, note-worthy observation.

“Yeah, we’ve covered that. Now if you’ll just…”

He blocks you again when you move to the left. Then the right. Then left again. It becomes a weird, really awkward dance right there in the middle of the bustling quad, and you know you’re attracting stares more so than usual. You feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment and the beginnings of your social anxiety causing your breaths to shorten.

“Let’s get you patched up,” Sokka says—and without asking for your permission, he gathers up your books and takes your arm gently in his, tugging you away from the crowd.

**== > Don’t be stubborn. Get patched up.**

Okay, but not because you want to. You let yourself be dragged towards the back of the Athlete’s Block, to the first-aid room normally reserved for the sports clubs and all sports-related injuries.

You are suddenly reminded that Sokka is on the school’s football team.

You remember seeing him play last autumn when Azula had dragged you out onto the bleachers for ‘publicity’ reasons. You think she just wanted you there as a buffer, so people wouldn’t annoy her with their banners and their screaming, not wanting to also talk to you. She had an image to maintain, but as your sister, you know she hates fraternising with the majority of ‘mouth-breathing imbeciles’ swarming the campus.

You don’t even know why she goes here. She could have easily made it to a better school in Caldera.

But anyway. Sokka had easily led their own Republic U Hawks to victory against the Ba Sing Se Lions—but he had been careless—his blind faith in his teammates repeatedly getting him tackled violently onto the field. You think they might have missed a few blocks on purpose. This bothers you for some reason.

Then you’re plopped onto a chair within a room that _reeks_ of disinfectant, and you wonder if that same carelessness had caused Sokka to mistakenly send you those awkward texts and suddenly you feel like throwing yourself out the open window—because what do you even say to someone who’d accidentally came out to you as bi, as a closeted gay man yourself?

**== > Sokka: patch him up. **

You’re the other guy again, the one with the bad jokes and the ‘wolf-tail’, and you curse yourself for getting carried away with your nosiness. Katara had really rubbed off on you with all her mothering habits.

You decide to think of this as just ‘casually lending a helping hand’, to preserve the last vestiges of your dignity.

Gathering the proper supplies from the familiar cupboards, you warily take Zuko’s palm in yours, giving him an unsure smile when he meets your eyes. You try not to swoon at the eye-contact. You think this is the first time he’s ever directly laid eyes on you. The sirens are going off in your head about biting off more than you can chew. Would you come out of this encounter the same again? Probably not.

Spirits. He has gorgeous, lively golden eyes. And despite the scar marring the left side of his face, its easy to see that Zuko had inherited elegant, almost aristocratic features—all high cheekbones, silky black hair stylishly layered to perfection, sharp jawline, long lashes (lash?) and really nice, soft-looking lips pulled into a frown you wanted to turn upside down…

“What.”

**== > Zuko: assume the worst.**

You _know_ he’s staring at your scar. Everyone does.

Now that he’s up close, it must look even uglier than usual.

You try not to feel hurt and fail miserably.

**== > Sokka: STOP STARING AT HIM YOU’RE MAKING IT WORSE.**

Whoops! You laugh sheepishly as Zuko gives you the mother-glare of all glares combined.

“Sorry. Uh… so let’s check the damage.”

You flip his right hand palm-up and start applying disinfectant with a cotton ball almost robotically. Being on the team made you accustomed to giving and receiving first-aid. This was nothing you wouldn’t do for any of your friends—but it’s different with Zuko. He’s being really docile, not struggling at all, despite his glare and initial coldness towards you in the quad.

It’s slightly annoying how you also find Zuko’s _hands_ attractive, milky skin with long fingers and pretty nails. Yours always had a bit of dirt in them.

Zuko’s face subtly shifts from angry to pained, so you apply less strength, taking great care to make the process as gentle as possible.

Once all the blood and dirt is cleaned off his skin, you paste a large band-aid across the gashes and give it a good, firm pat for measure.

**== > Zuko: suffer silently. Or not.**

“Ow!”

You yelp embarrassingly loud when Sokka gives your tender palm a _slap_ , so you tear your hand furiously away from his.

Then you cross your arms defensively, keeping the other untreated hand from Sokka’s grasp. You think he might be trying to get payback for the way you’d ended that bumbling conversation with him last night.

But then you notice the hurt look _he’s_ giving you and immediately change your mind. What gave him the right to look like that, anyway? _You_ were the one with the bleeding hands and bruised knees.

“I’m sorry,” Sokka stands, backing off. You feel disappointed at the loss of contact and scrunch your nose in confusion at the thought.

“Look, if I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll go.”

**== > Use your words, Zuko. **

“No, wait—” You blurt out, then grit your teeth, struggling to find the words. “Don’t.”

“Huh?” Sokka kneels back before you anyway. He’s got a couple of inches on you, so he easily meets your eyes again, and his gaze makes you feel small, like a petulant brat having thrown a fit. Which, yeah. You kind of did. 

“I—you—” you stutter pathetically and then he leans in, and you catch the faint scent of bergamot and cypress. It’s nice. It suits him.

You inhale it, reminding yourself to be civil.

“Thank you. For… helping me.”

You manage a wobbly twitch of the lips, and while it's not exactly a smile, it seems to do the trick.

“You’re welcome, Zuko,” he says warmly and fuck _he’s_ smiling at _you_ with his perfect, pearly-white teeth, ocean blue eyes lit with understanding and—

_Oh no, he’s hot._

**== > Be Sokka again. Go in for a smooch already!**

Imagining kissing Zuko right here and now just makes you flush so fucking hard, you think Zuko might actually see. It’s a small relief when you remember you’re tan, so it’s _probably_ not that obvious?

So you pick up where you left off, gently taking Zuko’s other hand and repeating the process. You remember not to touch the band-aid after you’re done, having learned your lesson the first time.

“Good as new!” You offer him another smile and feel disappointed when Zuko just seems to become tenser. He can barely look you in the eye now, casting his gaze towards the trashcan on your right.

Did he really hate you that much?

Feeling disappointed, you shake your head and get to your feet, rising back to full height. Zuko stands as well, his slender built a contrast to your own musculature.

You distinctly remember both of you being around the same size—until you started playing college football. While it sure didn’t make you beef-cake brawny, it definitely helped you gain some weight, finally growing into your previously gangly and awkward limbs. 

Stretching out the kink in your neck after slouching for the fifteen minutes it had taken to patch Zuko up, you raise your hand to wave goodbye—when Zuko does the improbable.

And there it was.

Fireworks exploding, birds singing, internal trumpet fanfare, the whole shebang.

Zuko _smiles._

**== > Sokka: fall in love with him. Be cheesy about it.**

Hey! Who said anything about LOVE?

It was a crush. Just a _crush_ , you tell yourself. Man, the romantic in you really spiralled out of control sometimes. T’was perfectly normal to like-like a guy, especially a guy as hot as Zuko (temper included).

**== > Remember why you started ‘like-liking’ him in the first place?**

You’re reminded of the first time you saw Zuko smile, just a couple of months back before you came to the grand realization that you were a Bi Disaster—in the school library during a gruelling week of deadlines.

The reclusive Sozin had been huddled in one of the comfy leather armchairs, alone as usual, reading from an infamous book titled ‘Love Amongst the Dragons’. It was weird, because Zuko was, according to rumours—a stoic, no-nonsense top student who studied law and certainly had no reason to be reading sappy, outdated romantic literature in his free time.

It froze you mid-step, how his nose had crinkled with unbridled amusement, and how his lips melded into a soft, pleased smile as he consumed the story. His whole demeanour had done a complete 180, and you remember thinking along the lines of ‘wow, he looks gorgeous when he smiles _’_ and ‘it sure would be nice if he smiled at _me_ like that’.

And THAT had been the start of your wretched pining, pushing you towards the tedious, uphill battle of accepting your newfound sexuality.

**== > Foolishly make a hasty retreat.**

Forcing out a quick “okay cool bye!”, you hightail it outta there and run back to the safety of your dorm. What an anti-climatic ending! You’re sure you made the right choice, though. Any longer, and you might’ve done something stupid like _actually_ kiss the guy.

You don’t really get any work done for the rest of the afternoon, covering your calendar guiltily with an old shirt.

You proceed to lose yourself watching Netflix’s Stranger Things to rid any unwanted thoughts from your mind.

**== > Later: check your phone. **

After a few episodes of angrily watching the gang neglect Will Byers in season three, you check your phone to find updates in the group chat. There are about fifty new messages about Toph and Aang’s exciting first visit to a popular teashop called ‘The Jasmine Dragon’, and Katara and Suki furiously ranting about how racist criminology had been during the 1800s.

There’s another message from…

Your jaw drops.

You waste no time opening _this_ chat.

✉

\-- Sokka received a message from [Zuko] at 16:21 hrs --

_hello._

_zuko here._

_but i guess you probably already know me._

_sort of._

GOOD GOD.

This guy was going to be the death of you. You clutch your heart, remembering his shy smile, the feel of his warm hands in yours, and his stupidly adorable phone casing. Turtleducks. TURTLEDUCKS.

The man liked turtleducks!

Toph and Suki were right—Zuko wasn’t mean.

He was AWKWARD.

You feel your confidence (and manhood) slowly (but surely) returning to full force.

Time to turn up the charm.

**oh hey it’s the stranger who blocked me last night**

**jk lol don’t kill me**

**how are your hands?**

_they’re fine._

_and yeah… sorry._

_i didn’t really know what to say?_

_after all that._

**its kewl  
totally coolios  
i mean, it was kinda my fault anyway**

**you’ll be happy to know that i took your advice  
started saving all my contacts by name **

_good._

_never hurts to be too careful._

**heh, funny you should say that.  
walk much?**

_excuse me?_

**just kidding  
though you really should be careful when walking  
i’d hate to see you get hurt… again**

You don’t receive a reply for the next five minutes and wonder if you blew it. AGAIN. Why were you MOTHERING HIM? The universe had given you another chance and you stick your foot in your mouth? What is wrong with you? Where was Mr Suave when you needed him?

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Then your phone _dings_ delightfully and you greedily consume Zuko’s response like a man starved.

_yeah. thanks._

_that doesn’t usually happen._

**no shame in having an off day  
i have those all the time  
AND i play football so the consequences are…  
DISASTROUS**

_you’re right tho.  
_ _i wasn’t paying attention…  
  
_

_and yeah, i can imagine  
i once got kicked in the face during a match.  
it hurt_

**wait what**

**you play sports?**

**i thought u were in the sc with suki?**

_yes but i compete in martial arts too  
_ _not for the school though. privately  
_ _there isn’t a club for that in our school._

**that’s so cool!**

**and at the risk of sounding cliché…  
“do you know kung fu??”**

_yes i do.  
_ _northern shaolin style to be exact_

_‘kung fu’ is a really broad umbrella term._

**ooo i never knew that**

**id love to see u fight?**

**just not me pls**

**you seem like a p cool guy tbh**

_thank you?  
_

_and yeah… i was pretty close to uh  
kicking your ass for the whole boomerang thing_

_but you looked pretty upset about it  
_ _which is why i guess i didn’t._

**THAT WAS AN ACCIDENT I SWEAR**

**i am soooo sorry zuko**

**pls forgive me?  
  
**

**even though it’s been three years…  
i defo should’ve apologised to you sooner**

_and its fine no worries_

_it wasn’t that bad._

**… didn’t you get carried to the medbay**

_yes._

**?**

_?_

**???**

_what?_

**ok nvm**

**im just glad u didn’t get a concussion  
or anything serious like that**

_…_

_well actually_

**NO**

**ZUKO**

**R U KIDDING ME  
  
**

**HOW COULD I NOT HAVE KNOWN  
** **YOU MUST'VE BEEN SO ANGRY  
  
**

 **WHY DIDN’T YOU KICK MY ASS???  
** **I WOULD HAVE TAKEN IT**

_calm down sokka.  
_ _it was mild. no permanent damage.  
  
_

 _and i can’t believe I’M the one saying this for once  
_ _but CHILL._

**no no no  
** **i will NOT chill**

 **but ok ye ill stop using caps sorry**

**let me make it up to you?  
please?  
**

**apologize properly in person**

**or do SOMETHING to make things up**

_you really don’t have to.  
_ _and you already returned the favour today  
  
most people wouldn’t have bothered._

**but you tripped?**

**not exactly the same as me injuring someone  
with boomerang  
who had no protective headgear  
  
**

**jfc zuko  
im pretty sure you could DIE from that**

**why am i only realising this now**

**im a terrible human being**

**so please let me do this for u??  
** **i won’t be able to go on otherwise  
  
**

 **ill burst into manly tears whenever i see you  
** **think about the time i nearly accidentally murdered a guy  
** **gave him a GD concussion**

**and did nothing about it for three whole fucking years  
  
**

**what would my Gran Gran say?  
** **she’d ban me from all future family dinners  
** **“you shame our family name sokka!”  
i’d die from heartbreak n guilt  
  
then katara would become an only child  
nobody would bring flowers to my funeral**

**they’d just spit on my grave and say  
“damn, he sure deserved that”**

_OKAY_

_you can make it up to me_

_just, please.  
_ _for the love of Agni... CALM DOWN_

_and stop SPAMMING._

**yes!!!!!!**

**i mean  
** **ok cool**  
  


**so when r u free? :)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all the kudos and comments! Ya'll are amazing! I'm happy to know people enjoy my work. 💖  
> I'm having SO MUCH FUN with this fic. Corrected some typos I noticed after posting, I do that a lot so don’t mind me.  
> Sokka and Zuko are AwKwArD and it's uwu as hecc
> 
> Next chapter: Sokka makes it up to Zuko. What could go wrong?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka makes it up to Zuko.  
> But whOOPS Zuko's hand slips.
> 
> RUH ROH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEARLY 200 KUDOS FOR THIS LIL' THANG?  
> Thank you all so much!!! I am STOKED. 💜💜💜
> 
> Introducing EMOJIS because ao3 seems to support them alright and my dumb ass didn't notice until a few days back! Also, I revise my work from my phone, so errors will be corrected along the way. You might want to let this sit for a bit for a Higher Quality Reading Experience. 
> 
> Enjoy!

✉

\-- Sokka started messaging [Zuko] at 06:30 hrs --

**GOOD MORNING  
** **how’s your day**

_its 6:30 in the fucking morning  
_ _wym???_

**oops sorry!!**

✉

\-- Sokka started messaging [Zuko] at 08:30 hrs --

**good morning again!**

_oh good god.  
fine im getting up._

**I’ll pick you up @ 2pm aight  
at block B**

_yes alright.  
you’ve reminded me like twice.  
also fyi i stayed up till 4am writing a paper_

**uh sorry** 💦 **  
just makin sure u dont forget lol**

 _  
why would i forget  
_ _and i don’t flake._

**oooh me likey  
** **gimme some**

_how about i give you a knuckle sandwich_

**what**

😳

_too much?  
it was a joke._

_nvm._

**why don’t u leave the jokes to me buddy**

_… ok_

**hehe  
** **see ya!**

_see you._

✉

\-- Sokka started messaging [Toph] at 08:37 hrs –

**SOS  
toph i need ur help  
  
**

You always need my help.  
Lay it on me, Snoozles.

**i need restaurant reccs STAT  
  
bc school food sucks  
and there’s people EVERYWHERE**

Why?

**ok long story short  
  
zuko fell and i helped him up  
kissed his booboos n stuff  
then he unblocked me  
and we texted a bit  
(ok maybe A LOT)  
  
now we’re going to meet  
so i can apologise in person for**

**u know  
… the boomerang thing**

Sokka, I’m pretty sure EVERYONE knows about the boomerang thing.

Also, WTF?  
You asked Zuko to hang out and didn’t invite me?  
And here I thought we were friends.

**we ARE friends  
  
YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!!!  
don’t make me say it pls**

Hahaha. JK.  
  
And don’t worry.  
I haven’t told anyone. I can keep secrets.  
Even the dumb ones.

Just make sure you don’t tell Aang!  
He tells Katara everything.  
And the last thing you need is Sugar Queen getting all up in your business.

**true dat  
i love katara but she’s kinda  
overprotective AF**

Yeap.  
  
If this goes well, introduce him to us?  
I’ve been wanting to get to know him.

**sure thing pal  
ive got this**

Nice. Go for it.

So anyway, why don’t you just order takeout?  
Chill at the terrace?  
It’s pretty quiet in the afternoons.  
  


**hm… yea i thought of that  
but prob not a good idea  
its really sunny today  
n he might get burnt  
  
he’s really fair ya dig?**

No, I don’t dig.

I’m BLIND remember?

**sorry.**

**but seriously  
any reccs?**

You could go to the place Aang and I went to.  
It’s a teahouse.  
  
The Jasmine Dragon.  
There’s a patio if you want outdoor seating.  
Great tea, nice ambience.

The owner is super cool by the way.

**ooo fancy  
perf for long, awkward conversations?  
  
do they serve snacks too?  
  
**

Yes.  
  
And yeah, they do.  
Egg tarts, almond jelly, Lao Po Bing.  
Sweetness.

**awesome  
i’ll google it  
thanks toph  
  
u da real mvp  
  
**

You know it.   
Have fun on your date!

**IT’S NOT A DATE**

Sure, Snoozles.  
Keep telling yourself that.

**kjaskdjaskd**

**== > Be the one and only Zuko.**

You’re now Zuko Sozin, an undergraduate third-year Law student at Republic University. One day, you hope to become a public prosecutor in the pursuit of fair trial and justice for all.

You’re also twenty-three, a grown-ass _man_ and definitely NOT freaking out right now about meeting AND spending time with Sokka. Someone you know mostly through dumb memes he loves to spam you with—and the playful, sarcastic virtual banter you’ve been exchanging on the daily since the fateful day he sent you The Text.

He’s also ~~really~~ hot but a huge goofball, judging from the way he texts. But you like that about him. He’s not like anyone you’ve ever known. 

So anyway, yeah, you’re Zuko. Good for you.

Now what?

**== > Check yourself out in the mirror. **

You begrudgingly check your reflection for the third time. You’re dressed in a simple white button-up, accompanied by a pair of jeans you’d actually ironed for some reason. You’ve tucked the ends into your boots—a pair of worn, but ‘forever fashionable’ Timberlands you’d gotten as a birthday gift from Ty Lee.

Your hair is brushed, face washed, teeth-cleaned… oh wait, cologne!

You _knew_ you’d forgotten something.

**== > Spritz yourself with some manly stank. **

You grab the bottle of expensive cologne off the ratty dresser which came with your cheap apartment, and gingerly mist yourself in Dior’s _Homme Eau de Toilette_.

Hopefully, the smell of expensive cologne would mask the anxiety rolling off you in waves.

Very carefully, you place the bottle back in its proper place. It was one of the few things you’d taken with you after moving away from your Mom’s. She had insisted on hiring some movers to help you with your things, and even offered to sponsor a DECENT apartment near your school—but you had respectfully declined.

It just didn’t seem right to spend more of her money when she was already paying for your tuition. Also, the alimony from your Father had stopped coming the moment you’d turned eighteen. You’d rather she spend the money on Kiyi, or on her retirement.

The only thing you were allowed to keep from Ozai, was your car. It is a really nice car. A luxury brand, actually—but you’re already numb to the endless obsession humanity has over material belongings.

A loveless childhood supplemented by money really wasn’t much of a childhood at all. Money couldn't buy love. You knew this for a fact. 

But you still think keeping your fancy car is somewhat a fair trade for the utter hell you went through under his ‘care’. You're sure Mom and Uncle Iroh would disagree. Maybe you could sell it after you graduated? Perhaps, get a newer, less shitty apartment.

You gently brush your face, fingers bumping clumsily against the other _keepsake_ you’d earned from Ozai. 

The thought of him leaves a rather bitter taste in your mouth.

**== > Quick! Think of something else!**

Turtleducks.

You stare sombrely at the customised phone case from your Mom, missing Jeeko, whom you had no choice but to leave behind. Your crappy apartment didn’t allow pets. Not that you would’ve brought him to suffer here, anyway. Your neighbours were _lunatics_. You think the old couple two doors down might be meth dealers.

But you sure missed him. His little beak nibbling on your fingers. His fluffy feathers, warm and soft against your hands. His cool little shell scraping along your back while you read your favourite novels. His cute quacks, demanding your attention.

Kiyi, the angel, dutifully sends you blurry pictures of him every day.

You wonder if the little guy misses you too.

**== > Squawk like a turtleduck when your phone vibrates.**

You fumble like an idiot, nearly dropping the expensive phone your Mom had forced into your hands before you left. You check the screen.

✉

\-- You received a message from [Sokka] at 13:40 hrs --

**hey zuko!**

**u otw?  
i’ll be waiting at the drop-off**

You curse violently, scrambling to get your wallet, your car keys and your embroidered handkerchief, a handmade gift by a popular seamstress in Gaoling, from Uncle Iroh.

What?

It was a good habit. You were a mess at many things, but hygiene? You had _that_ in the bag. 

... You think this might be a weird brag. You don't have a lot of things you can brag about though, so you take the opportunity to when you can. 

_yes.  
on my way._

**noice  
  
it’s the blue Ford pick-up btw  
the one with the badass bumper sticker**

_ok._

_what does it say?_

**come find out** 😉

**== > Sokka: glance sadly at Zuko when he scoffs at your sweet ride.**

“Spirits,” the ~~hot~~ jerk says, as he slides into your passenger seat. “ _Before you cut into my lane: what goes around comes BACK around_? You’re boomerang _obsessed_.”

“No, I’m not,” you pout half-heartedly. You’re kinda relieved he seems to be judging the sticker, and not your ride, what with owning a _Porsche_ and all. You’d seen him pulling into the lot just a few minutes shy of the agreed meeting time, engine purring dangerously and coated in a sexy, flawless red finish.

You’d finally bought your good ol’, pre-loved Baby Blue after two summers of waiting tables, and a no-interest loan from your Dad. It’s a classic, 1970’s Ford pick-up, and _the_ best for spontaneous camping trips with the Gaang. You were proud of her.

“Oh really?” Zuko snarks sarcastically, and you feel insulted for a brief moment until you remember he’s talking about your ~~weird~~ healthy ~~obsession~~ affinity for boomerangs, not responding to your internal monologuing.

He’s still struggling with the seatbelt because _sometimes_ they get jammed (still functional though).

So, like the gentleman you are, you lean over to help him.

Zuko visibly tenses when you invade his personal space. He’s so rigid. Painfully, adorably awkward. And… warm? You can actually _feel_ his body heat, even with the windows rolled down and the early spring breeze numbing your face.

You try to hold your breath because you don’t want to be rude and like, respire at the guy or whatever, but you’re human and there’s only so long you can hold your breath so—

You inhale.

And. Holy shit.

Zuko smells, really, _really_ good.

Was that _cologne_? 

“I was kidding. Boomerangs are… _fine_ ,” Zuko chokes out when you finally get the thing to _FASTEN damnit!_ The lock secures itself with a loud click. You lean back and sigh, shaking your head.

“Well, you’re right about that,” you shift gears, pulling out of the lot. “They’re _hella_ fine.”

You have one hand on the wheel and you’re keeping your body _slightly_ angled towards Zuko. You know this method of driving isn’t really all that safe, but Suki had said it was sexy once, and you believed her.

You see Zuko scowling at nothing, out the corner of your peripheral vision. It’s not as scary up close, despite what people say.

It’s actually kind of cute?

Oh, definitely, you decide. He’s cute when he’s brooding. _Especially_ when he’s brooding.

Unbelievable.

**== > Sokka: try to make small talk happen. **

You’re sailing smoothly down the street, Zuko on your right, no traffic in sight. As Toph would put it— _sweetness_.

But the stifling silence isn’t really a great way to start out Plan: Make-It-Up-To-Zuko-For-Giving-Him-A-Concussion, so you decide maybe a topic of interest would help lighten the mood.

**== > Go for it.**

“So, turtleducks, huh?”

“ _What?_ ” Zuko’s tone is colder than your hometown mid-winter. 

_Oh god. ABORT. ABORT!_

Then he turns and practically _glowers_ at you.

_Too late!_

“Your phone case! It’s uh… cute. I saw it when I picked it up. Y’know, the other day. When you fell. In the quad.”

_Real smooth, Sokka. REAL SMOOTH._

Zuko shifts to look out the window again, staring emotionlessly at the blurring scenery, all mysterious and brooding.

“… Thanks?”

There’s not much you think you can say, after _that_ disastrous attempt. Instead, you turn on the radio, allowing calming indie-rock hits to soothe your frazzled nerves.

By the time you turn onto the Silk Road Bridge, Zuko’s dozed off, slumped against the window tiredly. He must have been exhausted from writing that paper. You feel kind of bad waking him so early now, but you simply could not help it. You’ve been looking forward to this day for ages. A whole week, in fact. 

So, as an unspoken apology, you lower the volume of your music and let him nap.

**== > Reach your destination. **

The teashop is located deep within the expansive Republic City Park. It’s a charming, and slightly ostentatious two-storey building positioned to the left of a tranquil stone garden. The windows are round, with carved Chinese-style lattices. Upon first sight, you would’ve thought it was expensive and for snooty rich people if you hadn’t gone online to check the menu and reviews first.

And despite having opened only a couple months back, it is the only teahouse in the entire city with a flawless, five-star rating.

The signboard is magnificent—two dragons encircling elegantly carved characters spelling ‘The Jasmine Dragon’ in traditional script.

Real fancy digs.

You get lucky and swiftly reverse-park in an empty lot near the front, earning yourself a glare from the woman in the car behind you.

Turning to Zuko, you hesitate for a moment. He looks so adorable, asleep and relaxed like this. Like a cat napping in the sun. It almost felt wrong to disturb such a sight.

But your eagerness to interact with him wins over, and you start gently shaking him awake.

**== > Zuko: be rudely awoken from your slumber. **

You blearily open your eyes to find Sokka, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement, handsome face just inches away from yours, and hand on your shoulder…

“Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty,” he giggles and suddenly you’re overcome with the urge to deck him. But you don’t, because you’re much more nervous than annoyed, and you’re also trying this new thing where you use your words, and not your fists, remember?

“Ugh,” you sit up straight, cracking your neck. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Sure did,” Sokka sings. “C’mon man, I want to get a table. The line is growing _fast_.”

You look out the window, freeing yourself from the awful seatbelt as you do, and suddenly, you’re a 100% alert and awake. 

**== > Sokka: ponder over what has Zuko so shook.**

You wonder if you should’ve asked Zuko where _he_ would have preferred to go. Maybe the guy didn’t like tea? Or parks? But whatever it was, Zuko looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Earth to Zuko? Hello?” You wave your hand in his face, trying to snap him out of it.

He turns to you, looking wildly panicked.

“We need to go.”

“Oh. Um, okay,” you frown. And you’d gotten such a good parking spot, too. But if Zuko wasn’t comfortable here, you definitely weren’t going to argue. This whole day was about making it up to _him_ , after all. But you can’t help feeling slightly disappointed. This place looked worth the trip.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. But quickly, we have to—”

You see a girl approach Zuko’s side of the truck and your eyes go wide when she violently slams her palms on the window of your ride.

“ZUKO!!!”

**== > Zuko: scream like a little girl.**

You most definitely _don’t_ scream like a little girl, but you do jump in your seat, arms flailing wildly. You accidentally hit Sokka in the face… with a clenched fist.

He grunts in pain—and you violently swear in two different languages, retracting your stupid hand and cursing yourself for your stupid reflexes.

“SHIT! My _face_ ,” Sokka groans. 

“Let me see,” You scowl (anxiously), scrambling out of your seat and cradling his face in your hands to assess the damage. You’ve bruised him on the lower lip, the tender skin obviously split and a spot of fresh blood quickly seeping through.

“Sokka, I swear I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no! It’s fine!” Sokka croaks, cutting you off. He foolishly pokes at the tender spot with his finger. Then predictably hisses in pain. You feel the guilt practically eating away at your insides. “It stings a little, but I’ve had _way_ worse. Really.”

You reluctantly remove your hands from Sokka’s person and see his eyes flickering to something behind you.

“… Uh, who dat?”

You turn cautiously to see Jin, Uncle Iroh’s newest, cancerously upbeat hire, waving at you excitedly from outside the window.

Sighing, you nod at Sokka to unlock the doors and the both of you exit the truck with the grace of bumbling elephant-rhinos.

“Oh my god, Zuko! I haven’t seen you in forever,” Jin gushes. “Everyone’s going to be so excited to see you! Who’s your friend— _oh my god your face!”_

You wonder how she breathes, talking that fast, and shake your head when Sokka (of course) offers her a friendly grin, immediately hissing in pain when he stretches his split lip.

“Hi, Jin. Does Uncle still keep that first-aid kit in the back?” You place your hand gently on Sokka’s arm and lead him towards the entrance, flanked by a worried Jin, fussing good-naturedly over Sokka’s you-inflicted injury.

**== > Sokka: ??????**

Okay, what?

You let yourself get dragged past the annoyed patrons waiting in line, right to the front where a couple of ladies, dressed super fancy-schmancy and in the exact same getup as Zuko’s friend (Jin?), who’s by your right. They are dressed in similarly embroidered, green yukata-style uniforms, their hair done-up neatly in elegant buns, decorated with gold kanzashi pins.

The two at the entrance greet you and Zuko with low bows.

“Lord Zuko,” They echo eerily. “Welcome back to the Jasmine Dragon.”

Okay, seriously.

_What?_

You marvel at the three different shades of red Zuko manages to turn, staring blankly as he bats them away with a sheepish wave. The women immediately let them pass regardless of the long queue and some indignant, protesting customers. Jin stays behind with them—obviously, she worked here—to tend to the noise, promising cheerfully to come and find Zuko later.

He takes a moment to pause at the genkan, tugging off his boots, throwing you a pointed look. Not the culturally-ignorant ass you were back in high school, you wordlessly do the same. More attendants come to arrange your shoes neatly along the sides.

You remain silent as Zuko drags you all the way past the beautifully decorated serving area bursting with happy customers, the elaborate brush paintings hanging in the hallway, all complemented by the scent of calming incense and tea wafting through the air.

Your large feet thud loudly against the tatami floor. Trying not to stick out more than you already are—no doubt, thanks to your busted face—you try to pad lightly, failing to copy the way Zuko moved with almost zero sound.

“Here,” he beckons, pushing you gently through the doors you’re pretty sure leads to an area not typically frequented by customers. It’s a room with a bunch of cushions scattered around a well-loved kotatsu, shelves of books and scrolls giving the place a cosy vibe.

“Come sit,” Zuko says stiffly, and gives one of the cushions a firm pat. You sit obediently, still struggling to catch up with what was going on. Did he hit you _that_ hard?

 _Yes_ , your brain kindly supplies. _Yes, he did._

You briefly contemplate playing up the hurt to tease him—then remember how much worse Zuko must’ve had it when he got nailed by your thick, wooden boomerang, and quickly snap your mouth shut.

_Yeowch!_

You wince again when you accidentally agitate your lip, and Zuko kneels by your side, hands clutching the first-aid kit unforgivingly tight. You’re struck by the hilarious irony of the situation, the memory of Zuko taking a tumble in the quad still fresh in your mind.

Well, it _had_ only been a week.

“Is it just me, or is this déjà vu, like we’ve been here before?” You quote, offering him a pained grimace.

Zuko presses his lips firmly together, eyes downcast as he begins rummaging through the box for supplies to treat your hurt lip.

You sigh.

So much for trying to keep the mood light.

**== > Zuko: nurse him back to health. **

Your fingers are trembling as you dab Sokka’s mouth as gently as you can with a wadded-up piece of cotton, doing a piss-poor job compared to the stellar patch-up he gave you when _you_ got hurt. 

What’s worse, his getting hurt this time was entirely _your_ fault.

Granted, Sokka had given you a concussion back in first-year. Maybe this was how he felt about the incident? You think you’ll probably stop giving him shit for it. Because this felt _awful_. 

Sokka’s stopped talking, thankfully, instead choosing to stare quietly at you while you worked, which… actually kind of felt worse.

“It was an accident,” the words fly out of your mouth, the overwhelming guilt turning into instant word-vomit you can’t hold back. You also can't make eye contact, keeping your eyes on his denim jacket. “I’m so, _so_ sorry, Sokka. I panicked, and I get stupid when I panic, and I just don’t think before—”

“Hold up,” Sokka shuts you up by putting a sweaty palm on your mouth. You’re not even grossed out this time. Instead, you stare wordlessly into his steely, sapphire blue eyes. His intense gaze makes your noisy thoughts fade away to the back of your mind, like white noise.

Convinced that you were listening, he continues.

“I’m not mad, Zuko, I promise,” he removes his hand. “It was obviously an accident—you don’t have to beat yourself up about it.”

“But—”

“No buts! There will be no further buts, young man!” Sokka declares, in an obnoxious, nasally old-man voice and pretending to stroke an invisible beard.

“Uh,” You nod dumbly, not sure what to make of this sudden burst of theatrics. “Okay.”

“Good, good,” Sokka nods, pointing to his disinfected wound. “Now if you would.”

You dutifully return to treating the lip you’d injured, applying some numbing salve with a cotton-bud, to hopefully ease the pain. This medicine was something you used a lot, especially after tournaments.

“There’s not much else I can do. It’s going to have to heal by itself,” you say regretfully. “Pretty sure band-aids don’t work in this scenario.”

“That would certainly look strange, yes,” Sokka raises his eyebrows for dramatic effect, still stuck in his ridiculous persona. “Or _would_ it?”

To your complete bewilderment, Sokka snatches an obnoxiously pink Hello Kitty band-aid that _definitely_ hadn’t been there when you last used this kit and _sticks it over his entire bottom lip_.

He looks, of course, ridiculous, as he flexes his arms and waggles his eyebrows at you, in some misguided attempt to pull off the look. 

Or make you laugh.

**== > React to this tomfoolery. **

You’re ashamed that it _works_.

Much to your horror, you’re unable to stop the obnoxious snort from escaping your traitorous mouth. You try, and fail miserably, to disguise it as a cough, hand coming up to muffle the sound.

You’re still—okay _FINE_ —laughing, the sound rusty from disuse, when Sokka’s fingers come to rest on yours, pulling your hand away.

His fingers are cool on your heated skin.

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, giving you a tiny smile. His eyes are shining with something you can’t identify. “Don’t hide your laugh.”

“What?” You wheeze breathlessly. Your stomach hurt. It had been a while since you laughed this hard.

“I like it,” Sokka clears his throat, suddenly unable to make eye-contact. “Your laugh, I mean. It’s nice.”

Aware of the familiar heat creeping onto your cheeks, you offer Sokka a shy smile in return, feeling—oddly enough—the most relaxed you’ve been in a long, long time.

**== > Sokka: stare like a love-sick maiden at your beautiful prince charming.**

Your gaze trails back dreamily to Zuko as he offers you the cutest, almost _coy_ smile. His cheeks are flushed from laughing so hard and he’s just… radiating contentment.

It’s awesome. More than awesome. It was amazing. He’s practically _glowing_ with happiness. It was a good look on him. 

You tug at your collar. Was it just you or did it suddenly get a whole lot warmer in here?

“You’re a funny guy, Sokka,” Zuko is still smiling, even as he shakes his head in exasperation, no doubt at your ‘Wang Fire’ impression, a character from a family sitcom cancelled _years_ ago which you still loved.

“I know,” you throw in a wink for good measure. “Like I said, leave the jokes to me.”

**== > Iroh: walk in on your nephew. **

You, of course, burst into the break room with uninhibited eagerness after hearing of Zuko’s arrival from Jin, catching sight of your beloved nephew and immediately sweeping him into a tight embrace.

He freezes in shock—but quickly wraps his arms around your back, giving you a few awkward pats.

“Zuko! My dear boy,” you chuckle happily, drawing back from the hug to examine him. He looks like he’s been eating well, if not a little sleep-deprived. “I’m so glad you’ve come to visit. It’s been too long since we’ve caught up.”

“Hello, Uncle,” your nephew, having grown to be respectful and well-mannered, bows slightly to you, his elder. “It’s good to see you too.”

Your attention shifts to the boy sitting awkwardly on one of the cushions next to your nephew, no doubt confused by your sudden, enthusiastic entrance.

Oddly enough, he wears the cute cartoon plaster you had received from Madame Chong’s daughter on his mouth. It had been a thank-you gift for the complimentary plate of mango desserts you had rewarded little Cheng Yi with for successfully graduating kindergarten.

You hum curiously.

“And who is this young man?”

“Oh! I’m Sokka,” The boy leaps to his feet, bowing to you hurriedly. “I’m a friend of Zuko’s, from school. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Please, just call me Iroh,” you say kindly to him. You are very pleased with this information, and it was wonderful to know Zuko had become friends with such an exemplary, polite young man. “Though I must say, Sokka—I’m not sure _that_ ,” you point to your own mouth. “Sits particularly comfortably on the lip.”

Zuko snorts, and Sokka immediately _rips_ the plaster off his face, gasping loudly with pain. Your nephew flinches in shock and—much to your surprise!—quickly places his hand concernedly on the other boy’s face, thumb rubbing soothingly on the skin surrounding the bruise.

Your nephew and Sokka stare dumbly in shock at each other’s sudden movements—then simultaneously burst into joyous laughter the moment their eyes meet.

Well, well, _well_.

What an interesting _friend_ your dear nephew has made.

**== > Sokka: admire Zuko like a boofheaded, lovesick moron.**

… Sorry, what?

You’re staring stupidly at Zuko’s smile, enjoying the sound of his raspy laughter, his normally stoic golden eyes dancing with mirth.

It takes you an embarrassingly long moment to realise that his Uncle is staring directly at _you_ , not his nephew.

“Would you boys like to accompany this old man for some tea?” He asks, his voice kind, but his eyes, sharp and _oh Spirits he NOTICED_. “I must say, it has been quite a long time since I’ve enjoyed spending time with my favourite nephew. He is always so busy, with his assignments and his extracurricular activities.”

“Uncle, I’m your _only_ nephew,” Zuko groans. “But yes, we’d love to have tea with you. And before you ask—I’m sure Sokka would love to try his hand at Pai Sho.”

“Wonderful! I shall have young Jin prepare the private room immediately.” Iroh makes to leave first, and Zuko turns to you, raising an eyebrow at your confused expression.

“Private room? But we don’t have a reservation.”

Zuko scoffs.

“This is _Uncle’s_ teahouse. He started the franchise—the first shop he opened is in Ba Sing Se. This is the third one.”

“Oh. OH!” You exclaim intelligently.

Zuko grins when you finally put two and two together, uninhibited and still so unapologetically _happy_. You decide you’re okay with looking like an idiot if you can get him to smile like this, over and over again. Your heart does a little excited tumble at the possibilities.

Spirits, you were _so_ fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More exciting TIMEZ in the next chapter:  
> They may or may not go ice skating. Because Sokka wants to show off and of course... there's a 50/50 chance of this blowing up in his face. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! ✨  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka and Zuko resume 'hanging out'. There's a fancy mall, KBBQ, shenanigans on ice and LOTS of gay panic.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm blown away by the amount of love this fic has gotten, thank you so much! 💜💜💜 Hopefully, this chapter makes you smile, because it made ME smile while writing this! 
> 
> Oh! And you might want to take a quick peek at some inspirations I referenced while writing this chapter, for a Higher Quality reading experience:  
> [The Mall](https://a.cdn-hotels.com/gdcs/production90/d312/3d489779-53ac-47be-9d38-c037f75c11f5.jpg)  
> [Grapevine (0:08)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GhAB8jeKKEM&t=275s)
> 
> Enjoy! ✨

**== > Be the kid who sucks at Pai Sho.**

You’ve been playing for AGES now. 

Forty minutes, to be exact. The level of concentration this complicated game requires makes it extremely tedious on your already overworked brain. And you had lost _every_ match, in like, minutes. Zuko’s uncle is a BEAST at this and spares you absolutely no mercy even though you’re a newb. 

The three of you are seated in The Jasmine Dragon’s fanciest private room. There’s a painting of a magnificent, mountainous valley hanging on the wall, and you think it might be depicting the one in Shu Jing that Aang once said he wanted to go see.

“And my lotus tile takes your rose,” Iroh smiles because he’s nice, even as he mercilessly whoops your ass. “Do you concede?”

“Yes,” you lower your head in respect, sneaking a peek at the object of your affections as you do. You’re sending Zuko a desperate look which you hope conveys your message for HELP.

“You’re amazing, Iroh. How long have you been playing?” 

“For as long as I can remember. It is a wonderful way to stimulate the brain, is it not?” 

Well, of course, you have to agree. This is a terrifically crafted game of wit and strategy and you wonder why you haven’t heard of it till now. 

“Yeah! I mean, it’s kind of like chess but not really? There are so many different moves and three times as many outcomes than there’d be on a regular chessboard.” 

“Indeed. It allows for a nearly infinite number of unique plays. Would you like to play another round? Your refreshing approach makes the game very interesting for me.” 

Aw, _nuts_.

“Alright, Uncle,” Zuko intervenes on your behalf. “That’s enough Pai Sho for today. I’m sure Sokka just wants to relax and enjoy his tea.” 

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” Iroh protests, but complies with his nephew’s request anyway, taking out a small wooden chest and carefully placing the porcelain tiles back in. 

THANK TUI AND LA!!! 

Your brain was positively ACHING. And you’re pretty sure Iroh’s been using Pai Sho as an excuse to observe you and your incredibly OBVIOUS, less-than-pure intentions towards his nephew. But you’ve learned much from this encounter and you’d play Pai Sho again in a heartbeat—perhaps in smaller increments. And against someone less intimidating than Iroh. 

So, officially freed from the grand Pai Sho table, you eagerly scootch across the tatami to where Zuko is sitting, reaching for your own cup and settling as close to him as possible without making it TOO weird.

Your elbows brush against each other when you slouch. You notice Zuko’s unscarred ear turning a light shade of pink. NOICE! You reward yourself with a (gentle) sip of flavourful tea, careful not to agitate your hurt lip. 

“So, what brings you both here this afternoon? Was it really just to come and visit this old man?” 

Zuko snorts. 

And you swallow. HARD. You’re crossing your fingers under the table and hoping that Zuko doesn’t tell Iroh about the boomerang incident because he’s Zuko’s UNCLE and obviously loves him a lot—you don’t want to make him upset with the knowledge that you could have possibly murdered his nephew in his first year of university. 

“We planned to hang out,” Zuko shrugs. “And by the way, Sokka’s the one who chose this place. I had no idea we would be coming here.” 

“So you didn’t want to come see me?” Iroh pretends to be surprised, playing up the woe factor by clutching his chest. “Oh, nephew. How you wound me so.” 

“Uncle!” Zuko looks sheepish, but to his credit, he doesn’t try to lie. “I would have come to see you next week! I really _have_ been busy.” 

“I know, Zuko. I was just teasing,” Iroh assures, giving him an affectionate pat on the head. “I’m always happy to see you enjoying yourself.” 

You try not to cry with relief while they banter. Man, this Zuko! What a guy! You might be being a little overdramatic here, but Zuko seems like the kind of person who’d have your back in life or death situations. You offer him a grateful smile, which he returns with a small one of his own, and you feel your heart bubbling over with happiness. 

“A friend recommended your shop to me,” you tell Iroh. “She thinks the tea here is excellent. Which, you know, it is. She also said that the owner was _super_ cool.” 

“I see,” Iroh smiles happily. “Please thank her for her kind words, on my behalf. And I’m glad you are both enjoying your time here. Would you like some coupons?” 

He draws pieces of paper from under his sleeve, like some kind of magician, and hands you a _stack_ of them. 

“Oh, no! I couldn’t!” You say, surprised. “I’m more than happy to pay for my service here.”

“There’s no need to stand on ceremony, Sokka. Take this as a small apology for accidentally interrupting your time with my nephew,” Iroh says kindly.

You firmly shake your head. 

“You’re not interrupting anything. Zuko’s happy. And that’s good enough for me.”

**== > Iroh: contemplate.**

You are deeply pleased with this boy’s answer, offering him an approving nod in response. The three of you enjoy your latest brew. Jasmine, Zuko’s favourite. It was partly the reason why you named your first tea shop The Jasmine Dragon. 

Sokka seems like a very genuine young man. You had been closely observing the way he played Pai Sho, not just the game—but also his body language, his expressions and his vocal intonations. 

It was, undeniably, a bad habit. You had picked up many skills from your father. It was a family trait, to be cautious and scrutinising—something Zuko lacked. His mother Ursa had naturally influenced the boy to be kind and gentle, and while your brother had been outraged at this outcome, you find yourself endlessly relieved that Ursa had the good sense to take Zuko with her when she left. 

You conclude that there have been no signs of ulterior motives from young Sokka so far. Aside from his obvious romantic attraction to your nephew. It was less than innocent, as with most boys their age, but there was also a deeper attraction beyond the surface level, judging from their affectionate interactions thus far. Of course, it was far too soon to know if this would go anywhere in the long-run. 

But you decide to trust him anyway, and hopefully, by doing so, your nephew’s weary soul could finally have the chance to bloom. 

“I must take my leave,” you say when you finish your tea. “Feel free to use the room however long you want. And be sure to come visit me again soon.” 

“Of course,” Zuko gets up as you do and envelops you in a warm hug. His touches are still very light and uncertain, but it was a far cry from all those years ago when he had flinched at the slightest touch. “Thank you for having us, Uncle. I’ll see you next week, I promise.” 

“It was great to meet you, Iroh,” Sokka bows, making sure to go a little lower than Zuko does. “Thank you for the tea—and the game. Sorry I was so bad at it.” 

“It’s no problem at all,” you laugh heartily. “The games were well played. We’ll make a fine Pai Sho player out of you yet.” 

It’s your own way of seeing whether Sokka is here for the long haul. 

He does not let you down. 

“I can’t wait,” he gives you a sincere smile. “Rematch?” 

“Accepted.” 

**== > Take a breather. Be neither of these silly, exhausting boys. **

“So, where do you want to go now?” Sokka asks Zuko, who’s waving goodbye to Jin and Iroh over his shoulder.

Zuko returns his attention to his companion for the afternoon, noting how his busted lip looks marginally better. The swelling had gone down at least? But it definitely still looked like it hurt.

Sokka was going to have to take some painkillers if he wanted to sleep comfortably tonight. The thought makes Zuko feel unbearably guilty.

“I don’t know. Home?” Zuko shrugs, pretending to be aloof. “I wasn’t really expecting to be out more than a couple of hours.” 

“Aw, c’mon. The sun’s still up. It’s barely five,” Sokka gives Zuko a casual shoulder-bump, despite his internal cries for Zuko to stay.

Zuko pauses at the side of Sokka’s truck, giving the other an unreadable glance.

“Well, okay. Sure,” Zuko opens the door and lets himself in.

“That’s the spirit!” Sokka does a little victory dance in his head, feeling a renewed rush of excitement. He scrambles in after Zuko, onto his driver’s seat. 

“So, early dinner? How does Korean barbeque sound?” Sokka asks, watching Zuko struggle with the seatbelt (again) and feeling slightly disappointed when he manages to secure it himself this time.

“Uh, okay,” Zuko tilts his head curiously. “Where do you want to go?”

**== > Sokka: be the man with a plan!**

You bring Zuko to the most neutral place you can think of, with a near zero chance of running into any more of his relatives.

Moon Bay Mall. An enormous, glass atrium monstrosity that housed over a hundred different shops and restaurants. You come here sometimes, on brother-sister shopping trips with Katara (she liked to pretend she hated coming here but you knew better). There was always something to do.

And even IF you got sick of browsing the shops, there was plenty of other attractions; including a state of the art Cinemax theatre, an ice-skating rink, a bowling alley and even man-made rivers that crisscrossed along the ground floor in neat rows, where patrons could _sail_ their way through the enormous building.

“It’s nice,” is all Zuko says when you lead him through the glass doors. You’re slightly disappointed by his lack of reaction (Aang had nearly exploded with excitement when he’d first come here). You stick close to him amidst the throng of mall-goers who’ve made it their mission to bump uncomfortably into your sides.

You’re about ten paces into the place when you hear an angry grunt coming from your companion, noticing the way Zuko flinches when a middle-aged woman wearing bright pink lipstick knocks into him from behind with her bulky, expensive-looking handbag.

“Watch where you’re going!” She has the audacity to snap.

Zuko bites his lip to keep from retaliating, even if his face morphs into a sneer. He’s obviously controlling himself from making a scene, because the woman is still glaring, and refusing to leave. 

Frowning, you reach out and sling an arm around Zuko’s shoulders, leading him away from her. As you walk away, you turn to see her still giving you both glares. What gives? _She’d_ been the one who bumped into Zuko, not the other way around. What a self-entitled loon.

**== > Zuko: secretly enjoy being under Sokka’s muscular arm.**

It IS a very nice arm. Belonging to a very hot guy. It is a struggle to contain the gay, but Sokka’s just so _touchy_ all the time. Is it possible that he’s doing this on purpose? Even after you both leave that raging Karen behind; he still doesn’t move away. 

You definitely don’t protest. Instead, you try to memorise the feeling of his bicep across your shoulders, sniffing subtly as you tilt your head slightly to the right. 

Sokka’s jacket smells like fabric softener mixed with coconut (what WAS that?) and it creates a soothing feeling in your chest you’ve come to associate with him after a very trying, but still surprisingly pleasant afternoon.

After three turns, and getting onto an escalator leading one storey up, you arrive outside a bustling restaurant filled with happy patrons called ‘The Flameo Grill’. A cringe-worthy name. (Any sane person from Caldera City would concur.)

“Last chance to change your mind,” Sokka slides his arm away from your person and you immediately miss his warmth. You find this odd. You normally don’t like it when people touch you. It normally sends alarm bells ringing in your head—and then you realise that you’ve allowed him to keep touching you, all day, getting up and close in your personal space. 

What was it about this boy that made you let your guard down? Was it just because you found him hot? Because you’ve already punched him in the face, therefore minimising any existing social boundaries? Or were you simply THAT touch-starved?

“Yo, earth to Zuko,” Sokka leans in, distracting you from your self-loathing thoughts. You catch another whiff of fabric softener and coconut and your hands immediately fly up to your mouth, a futile attempt to prevent yourself from inhaling. 

Sokka patiently waits for you to respond, watching you stand stock-still, holding your breath like the idiot you are. 

“Yes!” You snap loudly, momentarily forgetting to control your volume. You quickly wrangle your vocal cords to operate at a more socially-acceptable level. “This place looks good. Let’s get a table.”

“Sweet,” Sokka nods, the side where his lip is bruised quirking up into an amused smirk. 

**== > Sokka: MEAT!!!**

You ask for a table at the back and near the buffet like you always do.

After giving Zuko a quick explanation of how the restaurant worked—sides from the buffet bar, things like carbs, salads and soups—and ordered the good stuff, the MEAT, through a tablet conveniently placed under each table. 

You order over ten platters of beef and pork (you really hope Zuko isn’t put off by your enormous appetite) before dragging him over to the buffet, piling your plate high with non-meaty but still-yummy goodness. 

Zuko’s a lot more hesitant to place things on his plate (like he was embarrassed or something), so you use your tongs to do it for him. He mumbles thanks under his breath, cheeks flushed. It strikes you again, how fair his skin is. You’d never survive being that pale, probably end up with really weird tan-lines from all the outdoorsy things you do. 

You imagine dropping a kiss on the tip of his cute lil’ nose and cross your fingers sneakily under your plate for luck. Because hopefully, soon, with enough time spent ‘hanging out’, you’d be kissing him all you wanted until graduation.

Unless he’s straight. Which would be a _huge_ let-down, given how you’re so smitten with him already. But something’s telling you (your internal bi-dar maybe?) that you DO have a shot if you play your cards right. You’ve been not-so-subtly flirting with him all day. He would have told you to back off if he was uncomfortable, right? 

Both your plates are overflowing with grub by the time you return to the table, and you get even MORE excited when you see the pre-ordered trays of raw meat (beautiful, delicious MEAT!!!) waiting to be grilled.

The start of the meal is thankfully, uneventful and free from accidental bursts of violence and any more of Zuko’s relatives coming to interrupt. The two of you talk amicably while eating the starters. The waiter comes to refill your cups with fizzy lemon soda every ten minutes, and you flip the meat with practised ease, demonstrating to Zuko the trick to barbecuing them just right.

“Tippy tip only, Zuko,” you chide when he fumbles the tongs. He doesn’t look used to cooking, though KBBQ hardly counts. Even the simple move of flipping pork-belly around is painful to watch. Zuko is _definitely_ a rich kid. You remember Iroh, dressed in all his finery and his successful chain of tea shops. You guess this makes sense? Iroh had probably spoiled Zuko rotten since he’d been a child (surely even now!), and Zuko probably had never been left wanting for anything.

“I’m trying,” Zuko huffs unhappily, the tip of his fringe fluttering upwards as he does. “The meat has a mind of its own.”

You laugh because, HA!

“It used to,” you waggle your eyebrows, thinking of Aang. “Ya’ know, a good friend of mine is vegetarian. He hates it when we come here.”

Zuko’s lone eyebrow flies upwards. “Why would a vegetarian willingly come in _here_ with _you?”_

“Hey!” You’re immediately offended at his tone. The meat part sure, but what does Zuko mean, YOU?

“You chew with your mouth open,” he explains. “Just thought you should know. I don’t get why any vegetarian would want to see bits of _dead animal flesh_ rolling around in your mouth.”

**== > Zuko: don’t be a dick!**

You think your off-handed comment comes off a little mean, judging from the sad look Sokka is suddenly sporting. Whoops. You really don’t like making him look that way, missing the jovial playfulness you’d come to know so well already.

**== > Sokka: be butthurt about it, obviously.**

OUCH! That was brutal. You’re hurt, NGL. You quickly snap your trap shut, not wanting to gross Zuko out any further (but also kind of wanting to flip him off for being such a jerk about it). You wisely refrain.

“Just the perks of hanging out with lil’ ol’ me, I guess,” you say coolly, dipping your first slice of beef into the restaurant’s famous secret sauce, stuffing it quickly into your mouth and immediately _moaning_ as you chew (mouth closed!). Yum. “Anyway, my friend—you know Aang? He started dating Katara last fall. My sister and I love this place, and he’s always following her around like a baby sabretooth moose lion, so he comes with. He usually gets his grub after, at Veganburg.”

Zuko narrows his eyes. “He’s the kid with the weird arrow tattoos, right?”

“Yeap.”

Zuko snorts. “Figures. They’re perfect for each other.”

You frown a little (okay, A LOT) at his sarcastic tone. After today’s events, you’re sure Zuko’s a nice guy, even if he comes off mean and standoffish to most of the school body. But you’re incredibly protective of your sister when you need to be, and you know she takes enough shit from Zuko’s sister, so you confront him anyway. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Both of you stare at each other for a tense moment before Zuko breaks eye-contact.

“I didn’t _mean_ anything by it,” he says defensively, putting down his chopsticks. “Just. My sister hates Katara, but she hates Aang even more. Them dating would make her head spin.”

Huh. “What’s her problem, anyway?” You cross your arms with some trouble, refusing to let go of your chopsticks. “Azula, yeah? The bossy girl with the bun, on the SC?”

“That’s her,” Zuko sighs. “And I wouldn’t know. We don’t exactly get along. She hates me.”

“And why’s that?”

Zuko presses his lips firmly together, looking like he regrets approaching the subject. He’s resumed his shitty meat-flipping technique, visibly flinching as some oil flies off the grill and onto his wrist.

You decide not to push him on it. Why would you? You don’t have a death wish. That punch had HURT. You could only imagine how much you’d bruise if Zuko decided to throw hands for real.

(Also, you’re still hoping to one day make this guy your bae, so it’s imperative that you stay on his good side.)

“Leave it, man,” you swipe the metal tongs from his fingers. “What your sister does in her free time is her business. If she wants to waste it picking fights with _my_ sister, then it’s got nothing to do with you.”

You look up from the meal, at Zuko’s face. You’re relieved to see he’s stopped scowling, the corners of his lips slightly upturned. C’mon… just a little more.

“By the way,” you whisper conspiratorially, leaning across the table for dramatic effect. Zuko mirrors your movement, even when both your tops get splashed on by specks of grease flying off the grill. 

“Azula’s a _huge_ bitch. Just thought you should know.”

Zuko makes a strangled noise at the back of his throat. You’re worried you’ve offended him somehow, even though he’d said they don’t get along. But then Zuko smiles. 

Score! 

“Oh, she is. Believe me, I know.”

**== > INTERLUDE: Be Sokka’s Phone**

> You have (3) missed calls from [Katara].

> You have (5) unread chats.

✉

\-- [Katara] started messaging you at 18:00 hrs -- 

Hey, when are you coming back?

Movie night tonight, remember?

You’ve been nagging us to watch this stupid show for weeks. 

Helloooo? 😡😡😡

✉

\-- [Aang] started messaging you at 18:02 hrs --

hi Sokka!

are you coming back to the dorm soon?

katara made popcorn! it tastes great

oh, and i brought appa hehe  
he misses you! c:

✉

\-- [Suki] started messaging you at 18:19 hrs --

sokka can you answer the gd phone  
katara’s starting to worry

she thinks you’ve fallen and died in a ditch somewhere LOL  
i hope you’re okay? or are you just busy?

just fire us a text if you can’t talk? 😒

✉

\-- [Toph] started messaging you at 18:23 hrs --

You owe me big time, Snoozles.

I spun something about you being in the lab.

Get your story straight before you come back.

Katara’s on the warpath.

✉

\-- [unknown] started messaging you at 18:45 hrs --

dude wtf r u doing with azula’s bitch brother

bee saw u guys @ MBM 

[Image Attached: Sokka’s arm around Zuko as they walk through the crowded Moon Bay Mall, taken from the third floor]

**== > Sokka: neglect your phone in favour of your ~~date~~ friend**

You’ve managed to talk Zuko into SKATING.

The two of you head to the ice rink, tummies full and the smell of barbeque stubbornly clinging to your clothes. The rink is located at the east end of the mall, so you have some time to get the feeling back in your legs, after the intense food coma you both experienced. 

You’re surprised this took such little persuasion, but the look Zuko had given you when you’d suggested a post-dinner activity in the form of gliding around on ice had actually been one of _excitement_.

“I used to skate,” he says, when the both of you line-up to buy tickets. “Back when I was a kid.”

“Cool! Me too,” you grin, remembering your time in the neighbourhood’s pee-wee hockey league with fondness. “My dad taught me how. He carried his high school team all the way to the state championships, back in his day.”

“Really?” Zuko looks very impressed. “Does he still play?”

“Nah, he stopped after he went to college. That’s where he met my mom.”

“That’s nice. College sweethearts, huh? They must get along great,” Zuko’s voice sounds _bitter_ almost, even if he’s smiling as he speaks.

“They used to,” your voice goes soft, hands reaching down to play with the ends of your denim top. “Mom died when Katara and I were really little. Freak accident.”

“Oh. I’m… sorry,” Zuko chews his bottom lip, awkward as hell but still kindly placing his hand gently on your arm. “That must have been hard.”

You nod. “It was. Took us a really long time to feel normal again. I still miss her a lot.”

Zuko’s obviously not a man of many words, but the pale hand that slips quietly into your own speaks volumes. It makes your heart soar.

“Thanks,” you give his hand a tender squeeze, careful not to use too much strength. They were still healing from when he’d injured them. Zuko notices this and gives you an appreciative look in return. 

**== > Get laced up.**

Both of you reach the counter and you ask for a pair of hockey rentals. You’re expecting Zuko to do the same—but to your surprise, he asks for a pair of figure skates. You chide yourself for assuming he played hockey. Old prejudices and stereotypes were hard to change, but you were trying!

The boots you’re both handed are ratty with overuse and kind of damp… hopefully from the ice and not from other people’s sweaty feet (ugh). You’re glad you had the foresight to ask for two new pairs of long socks to wear over your own, handing a packet to Zuko. He takes them gratefully, fingers brushing your own.

“They’re so loose around the ankle,” Zuko grumbles immediately when he slips his foot in. “And the blades are _dull_. They won’t turn easy.”

“Yeah,” you’re frowning as you try to lace-up as tightly as you can, the brittle laces straining ominously as you pull like they’re about to crumble. “Careful not to fall… again.”

Your casual reference to his ungraceful spill in the quad immediately sparks Zuko’s competitive side.

“Is that a challenge?” Zuko looks up from his boots, raising his lone eyebrow. The whiteness of the ice reflects light prettily into his eyes, making them glitter, almost—but it also highlights the nasty scar on the left side of his face, making him look twice as intimidating as usual.

“… Maybe,” still, you’re never one to back down from stupid contests. The Gaang could attest to that. “First one on his ass loses?”

“You’re on.”

**== > Zuko: wobble around like baby Bambi**

This was a lot harder than you remembered it.

The moment your foot lands on the smooth, slightly wet ice (they’d just Zamboni-ed it before the start of your session), you grapple for purchase on the barriers because WOW these skates were just… awful.

Sokka doesn’t seem to be having the same problem—he’s already sped off ahead, his borrowed hockey skates making loud, scratching noises against the ice. It’s a familiar sound, one that reminds you of a time when you’d lived a life of luxury, attending ballet and figure skating lessons alongside your sister.

Ozai had obviously been against the idea (being the raging sexist and homophobe that he was), but had, of course, adhered to her request for your company. That was back when you’d both still gotten along. The lessons had ended the moment _she_ lost interest. In skating, and in you. 

(You resent her for it because you know she asked Ozai to stop the lessons on purpose, knowing you had enjoyed them so much.)

Your next few strides are still shaky, but better. The muscle memory’s kicking in, and after reaching the first corner, you ease into rapid crossovers, slowly picking up speed and getting used to the shitty grip the cheap blades have on the ice.

Sokka’s already done one full round, gliding up next to you and matching your slower pace.

“Need a hand there?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you grumble, but you’re smiling anyway, and the two of you perform crossovers in sync as you reach the next curve. The only difference between you two is that _your_ arms automatically go up to balance yourself, out of habit. You quickly lower them when you get some curious looks from a few kids wobbling across the ice.

Sokka gives you a knowing smile. Your face burns, not from the cold air piercing your skin, but from the intensity of his gaze. He passes you again, brushing his hand gently across your forearm as he does. 

Watching him skate away, you allow yourself to admire his form, all broad-shoulders and tapered waist, before chasing after him.

**== > Sokka: swizzle around with Zuko **

Zuko’s pretty good, and he matches your pace easily even though his rental figure skates look even shitter than yours, being the default choice most newbies or casual-skaters went for when starting out.

He suddenly picks up speed FAST, and your legs push hard against the ice when you near the next turn, because you’re on the right and that means you’ve got more distance to cover if you want to keep up.

You complete at least three rounds before Zuko gets it in his head to step things up.

The jerk edges his right foot inwards when he reaches a turn, flipping smoothly into a reverse skate and angling his body gracefully to the right as he slips into a repetition of backwards crossovers, arms thrown up automatically for balance.

You whistle, leaning low to gain momentum and also maximising your strides. Stretching your arms behind your back, you raise your voice so he hears you over the echoing sound of metal cutting through ice. 

“What else ya got!” 

**== > Zuko: do the spinny thing!**

You’re in shitty rental skates and more than seven years out of practice so you definitely DON’T do a spin. Even a two-foot spin would be hard in these things. 

But you really want to impress Sokka. WHY? You really didn’t know anymore but today has been one giant question mark anyway, so you decide on a simple beginner’s spiral, but stopping when your right foot is lifted slightly above your head so as not to rip your pants (you had easily done a 180 in the past).

It’s not perfect. Your left foot wobbles with the strain, and your arms are already sore from stretching them so much on turns. The past you would’ve been disappointed with this pathetic display and your complete lack of stamina.

There’s a couple of kids who are gawking openly, wobbling their way across the ice towards you. Whether they’re mesmerised by this terribly simple trick or the disfigurement covering half your face, you’re not sure.

Anyway. You lower your foot back to the ground and turn around to gauge Sokka’s reaction—only to stumble backwards when he collides into you with a loud “OOF!”

**== > Sokka: pretend like that was an accident**

“Sorry,” you grin sheepishly, your hands coming to hold Zuko’s lower back, so he doesn’t skid and fall. It’s a little scummy, pretending to crash into him like this just for an excuse to touch him, but hey—you had control. You knew what you were doing in these things.

“Skate much?”

“More than you, seems like,” Zuko snorts, suspecting nothing. “Want to try? I could show you.”

“Eh. Hard pass.”

You’ve tried some figure skating tricks once when Katara had developed a brief interest in it. The both of you had done your best to learn from YouTube tutorials. You remember face-planting and nearly breaking your nose the one time you’d tried a waltz jump and it’s scarred you ever since.

Freestyle tricks were WAY cooler anyway—and much more your speed.

An idea pops into your head.

“How ‘bout I teach _you_ something?” Zuko nods his consent and you’re thrilled, eagerly gesturing for him to follow you towards the middle of the ice. There’s less traffic here, just some kids scraping up the ice with their blades and making ice balls to toss around.

“So, this is what freestylers call a grapevine,” you start from one end of the circle marking the centre of the rink, pushing off strong and easily swinging your hips side-to-side as you switch between using the inner and outer blades of your skates to make smooth, inward curves. 

Your body follows with the movement, flicking back and forth, almost like a dance, and you grin when you see Zuko out the corner of your eye, jaw slightly open and yeah he _definitely_ looks impressed.

**== > Zuko: be VERY attracted.**

You don’t know what the hell Sokka just did but it was HOT.

He starts slowly at first, easing into the movement. And then speeds up towards the end, hips snapping back and forth rhythmically, feet weaving seamless curves onto the ice. Damn.

**== > Sokka: seize the opportunity**

“Teach me,” Zuko demands, before remembering To Be Polite. “Please.”

“Sure,” you slide up to him and offer your hands, cursing yourself for forgetting to wipe off the sweat before taking his fingers in yours. Stupid eccrine glands. Luckily, Zuko doesn’t seem to mind. He grips your hands tight when you start skating backwards.

“Okay, so you start with your right foot, then tilt it inwards, make a curve—cut the ice with the outer edge,” he does as you say, and immediately _slips_ , grabbing onto your arms deathly-tight for purchase.

You wince because Zuko is STRONG and you quickly yank him upwards, allowing him to fall into your arms and touching his waist again. You’re dropping so many hints by now it would’ve been painful for any person with competent emotional receptors to watch.

“Fuck,” Zuko blushes, embarrassed (hopefully because he FINALLY noticed?). “Probably not a good idea to learn anything in these shitty things.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be pig-chicken,” you goad. “I did it, didn’t I?”

Zuko grumbles under his breath but agrees to try again.

And again.

He nearly gets it the fifth time and you ease your grip, allowing him enough space to mirror the movement with his left foot as well. He manages to do one full rotation and you whoop, briefly reverting to your dumb jock-self and giving him a playful slap on the ass in congratulations.

Oh no.

**== > Zuko: be… mildly annoyed?**

“Did you just...?”

“Uh. Sorry about that?” He looks genuinely apologetic, so you guess you’ll let it slide. This time. You will vehemently deny till the day you die that it’s because it was SOKKA, that you don’t mind all that much.

“Whatever.”

**== > Sokka: observe from a distance.**

Oh, thank god. He doesn’t kick your ass or threatens to press charges, but you decide to back off a little anyway. So you skate out of the circle, giving Zuko the space he needs to keep trying the grapevine. And the space YOU need to recover from your brief social faux pas.

Zuko gets it right. Again. You’re mesmerised by the grace he possesses, even as he does freestyle. His hips swing, feet moving into one slow rotation, then two…

Then his toe-pick catches on the ice when he leans forwards just a little too far, sending him sprawling onto the ice on his side. It was a gentle fall, so you’re not worried. You grin instead, feeling playful, taking the chance to— 

**== > Zuko: accept defeat.**

You hear Sokka hurtling towards you at full speed and gasp loudly when he hockey-stops right in your face, sending ice shavings all over you. Your clothes, your face and your _hair_. 

“Looks like I win,” Sokka grins triumphantly, offering you a hand. “No hard feelings?”

You’d completely forgotten about your little contest, side-tracked by his ~~sexy~~ demonstration earlier (you were hopeless).

Taking his hand and getting lifted back onto your feet, you flick the bits of ice that hasn’t melted at his face, pretending to be sore about losing (you’re not). He’s laughing as he shields his face, and you find yourself mesmerised by how _happy_ he looks, being here.

Being with _you_.

“So, what do I lose?” You ask, allowing your crappy skates to carry your body closer to him, even though you weren’t moving (the ice definitely wasn’t level).

You notice that he doesn't stop you from coming close, completely unbothered by your breach of his personal space. Even if you both know that you _have_ to stop. You’d both end up sprawled on the ice otherwise. 

But Sokka still doesn’t move. You’re left with no choice but to awkwardly stop yourself at the last minute, by placing your hands on his jacket. His brilliant blue eyes are sparkling with mirth, and you daresay _fondness_ , as he looks at _you_. He doesn’t flinch at your scar, doesn’t even hesitate as he raises his hands to press yours firmly against his chest. You feel butterflies in your tummy, at the feeling of his calloused hands tenderly holding your own. 

He is so handsome, you think. Painfully so. And looking at you like this, like he truly sees _you_ and not your multitude of imperfections and you’re just so… so…

Guiltily, helplessly _attracted_.

You catch a whiff of leftover barbeque off his shirt. Along with that mysterious, coconutty scent you’re quickly learning to appreciate. It’s so uniquely _Sokka_ , and you really, _really_ like how he smells. 

“Dunno. What’s on the table?” Sokka asks, in response to your long-forgotten question. He’s looking directly at your lips, face slowly inching closer. 

Your breath catches in your throat when you realise you’ve been in a situation similar to this before. You know that there are two different ways this could go:

You could push away, like you _should_ , say something stupid and pretend like nothing’s happened. The day would end with some awkwardness, but also unbearable levels of self-hatred because you would’ve ended up doing what _Ozai_ would have wanted.

Or… you could stay.

Say something equally stupid, take the risk, and allow yourself this _one_ thing, finally, after a lifetime of trying to hide this part of you away.

(You were _so_ tired of hiding. You think your mind is already made up.)

“Anything, I guess,” you’re tilting your head up to look into his eyes now, you’re _that_ close, and you let Sokka’s hands rest tentatively on your shoulders. 

You’re hidden from the eyes of curious spectators by his well-built arms, but you still feel exposed, so you drag yourself just a bit closer, your own hands sliding around him to rest on his upper back.

He smiles.

Your heart throbs painfully in your chest.

(It’s the good kind of ache.)

It feels like everyone else has been cancelled out, as though it’s just the two of you, gazing softly into each other’s eyes right there, in the middle of the rink.

You hear an overused romantic pop ballad playing from the overhead speakers and, as cliché as this sounds, you’re swept away by the atmosphere it creates, and the irresistible urge to give in to your attraction for this wonderful, lovely human being.

(You’ve always been terrible at resisting temptation.)

So, you lean in, eyes fluttering shut, feeling your noses brush before…

**== > Lee: courageously approach the cool kids!**

It’s taken a good twenty minutes and some gentle encouragement from Sensu before you dare skate towards the pair of older boys.

You don’t hear the last-minute protest from your brother telling you to wait, an attempt to alert you to something that you, as a preteen boy obsessed with ice hockey and superheroes, would have no way of noticing otherwise.

The taller dude with the cool haircut had done this really wicked trick you were _dying_ to learn, and hopefully enough, with the right amount of puppy-eyes and any luck that they liked children enough, he’d be willing to show you how.

Unfortunately, as a prepubescent boy with little control over your newly grown, gangly limbs, you miscalculate a stride and end up falling face-first onto the ice, sliding uncontrollably fast and colliding with the other guy’s skates; the one with the gnarly scar on his face.

Scar-dude loses his balance with a yelp and nearly falls on top of you—before ponytail-guy swiftly catches him, arms wrapped around his waist.

“Easy there,” you hear him saying gently to his friend. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” wow! You didn’t know people could turn that red. “What’s your problem, kid?”

It takes you a moment to notice that he’s talking to YOU now, and you quickly scramble upright, introducing yourself with as much gusto as you can.

“Hi, there! I’m Lee,” he points to himself. “I saw you guys doing this swizzle thing? Can you teach me? It was so cool!”

**== > Sokka: be, unfortunately, rudely interrupted.**

You try not to shed a manly tear.

Damn. Fucking damn it all to _hell_. You’d been so close. So fucking close!

Zuko’s already clammed back up, hiding behind his unfriendly, brooding façade. Your heart sinks at the scowl on his face.

“Um,” you say to the kid, not taking your eyes off Zuko for a second. “Sure. Just… give me a minute to—”

“It’s fine. Go ahead and show him. I’m tired, anyway,” adding on to your disappointment, Zuko skates away, heading for the exit. For a brief moment, you’re horrified by the thought of him leaving without you and blocking you again.

You see him collapsing into one of the stiff plastic chairs in the stands and refrain from crying out in relief. 

**== > Zuko: try to stop panicking.**

You can’t. You can’t stop your hands from shaking no matter how much you try.

You tiredly lift your gaze to watch Sokka half-heartedly teaching the kid how to grapevine. (He’s obviously worried about you, judging from the concerned glances he keeps sending your way every few seconds.)

It feels like a plate has been smashed over your head when the reality inevitably sinks in. You realise what you’d nearly done, in front of dozens of faceless strangers, in a _public place_ where anyone could be watching.

You’d nearly kissed Sokka.

And you still _wanted_ to kiss him. Obviously. No point trying to deny that now—at least, not to yourself.

You wanted to KISS _Sokka_ , the guy you’ve only gotten to know for a little over a _week_.

Sokka, who spams you with dumb memes at midnight and nagged at you to get enough sleep despite waking you hours earlier today. The same guy who’d nearly killed you with a boomerang in first year, but also stopped to help you when you fell in the quad, and then insisted he make-up for the whole boomerang fiasco after you’d unblocked him after he’d sent that accidental text about being b—

Okay. Stop. You were obviously spiralling.

Deep breaths, Zuko. Everything would be fine.

Just.

You sigh, covering your face with your hands, feeling tired and so, so _alone_.

**== > Take another quick breather: be neither of these dumb, lovesick fools.**

After another twenty-minutes of teaching the kid—Lee—how to start with the basics, Sokka hurries over to where Zuko is waiting, hunched over and hiding his face in his hands.

He bites his lip, unsure of what to say. Maybe going somewhere less crowded would help.

“Zuko. Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes,” he says, looking up but still not at Sokka, instead choosing to squint angrily at his skates, yanking the laces apart and tugging the shoes off.

Sokka does the same, with a lot less anger and instead with a defeated countenance.

They return their skates and walk aimlessly throughout the mall, sullenly watching as happy couples sail by on little boats rented from the kiosk down south.

“What now?” Zuko asks abruptly, turning to Sokka with a serious look on his face. Sokka sputters, hands flying up to defend himself (just in case).

“Boba. Let’s get boba?” He blurts in a rush, without thinking.

Zuko sighs.

“I meant—fine. Boba. Let’s do that.”

“Okay.”

**== > Be Sokka again, this time with boba.**

You sip noisily at your brown sugar milk tea, peeping at Zuko, who’s mouthing around his straw but ignoring the avocado goodness he holds.

The walk to the parking lot is silent. It was an unspoken decision to leave the mall, and even if you’d initially planned on popping by Sephora to top-up on moisturizer for Katara (and _okay_ , for yourself too), you think it’s for the best because Zuko literally looks like he’s about to collapse.

It’s a five-minute walk before you reach your truck, and you regret parking so far because your feet are aching from skating around so much on shitty rentals.

They aren’t aching as much as your heart, though. You’re not sure how you’re going to fall asleep tonight, and you might distract yourself with another Netflix marathon.

Slipping into your ride, you lock the door after Zuko follows, popping open the cup-holders as you go, setting down your drink. You turn on the heater, because even if you were used to the cold, you can tell from the slight tremors wracking Zuko’s body that he’s not.

**== > Zuko: choke on some tiny black balls.**

You cough when a few of the tapioca pearls gets stuck in your throat, like your heart. Sokka’s hand comes to thump your back, and you swallow _hard_ , forcing them down and gritting your teeth through the pain.

“Alright?”

“Yeah,” you still can’t bear to look at him, afraid that you’d end up losing yourself and doing something stupid again. “I’m fine. Let’s just go.”

There’s a pregnant pause as you wait for Sokka to start his truck and send you both back to the university.

He doesn’t.

“No.”

“No?” You turn to him, surprised, finally looking at his face. Shit. You regret it immediately, feeling struck breathless once more by his handsome visage, and those irritatingly captivating blue eyes.

“I wanna talk about _this_ ,” Sokka gestures to the both of you with his hands. “You know. About what happened back there.”

You feel your cheeks turning hot, with anger and humiliation. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Zuko…” Sokka sounds _so_ disappointed. “C’mon. Look at me, please.”

He puts a hand under your chin, lifting your gaze to look at him again.

“I’m sorry,” you hear yourself croaking. “I didn’t mean to.”

Sokka’s hand flies off your chin instantly. His hand comes up to support his head, as he leans tiredly against the headboard, giving you the saddest smile you’ve ever seen.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. I-I overstepped.”

“You didn’t push me,” you protest, fidgeting in your seat. “I just—assumed that you… that you…” you trail off lamely, like the coward you are.

“That I what?” Sokka prompts, refusing to give up on you.

So you decide to be honest. You’ve always been a lousy liar anyway.

**== > Sokka: listen carefully, now.**

Zuko’s next words are so soft you wouldn’t have heard if you hadn’t strained to hear them.

“That you wanted to kiss me.”

You blink.

Wait.

 _What?_

“But I _did_ ,” you blurt out, with no regrets. “I wanted to. Kiss you, I mean.”

It’s Zuko’s turn to look confused.

“I don’t understand?”

You sigh, unable to put your feelings into words. How were you supposed to tell him you’ve been nursing a crush on him all this time? There was no way you’d be able to manage it without him wriggling away like a startled turtleduck (gigglesnort).

So yeah, fuck it. 

You decide to show him instead.

**== > Zuko.exe has stopped working**

He’s kissing you.

 _Sokka_ is kissing _you_.

He’s kissing you, so softly, like he’s afraid you might break. You can’t move. Your eyes are wide open, and you’re going cross-eyed because _he’s so close_.

Sokka kisses you some more, tilting his head to deepen it and you _finally_ get it in your head to respond, eyes fluttering shut and gently pressing back. His lips are slightly chapped and rough from where you’d accidentally split it with your fist this afternoon.

Even through the numbing shock you’re experiencing right now, the feeling of his lips gently moving against your own lights a fire in the pit of your belly, stirring something inside you that warms you from inside out. 

It occurs to you, already breathless and entirely blown away by this confusing (wonderful) turn of events, that this is your first time kissing another guy.

(You’ve been so tired of hiding.)

So you allow your overworked brain one, singular thought, as your hand comes up to caress the side of Sokka’s chiselled jaw, prompting him to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you close.

_This feels right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: MORE gay panic (Zuko is POTATO), MORE pining, Katara gets really sus and rumours start flying around. DRAMA!!!  
>   
> *Just to clarify: this IS a Modern AU, even if there are animal hybrids. Tutleducks are just too cute not to include. Zuko would be devastated.
> 
> Btw I was going to end this chapter at the scene where Lee interrupted, but man... even I get sick writing about their dumb pining--we need SOME plot progression, damnit! I hope this sated your Zukka appetites. You guys are amazing! See ya'lls next chapter. 💖


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More texting. Azula gets involved. Someone's stirring the pot!  
> A 'friendly intervention', part one.  
>   
> Also, the events in this chapter are occurring while and after Zuko and Sokka went on their date last chapter. Just not from their POV. Hope that makes sense!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited this from my phone so I apologise for any grammatical or spelling errors.

**== > Be Azula. **

Your name is Azula Sozin, and you’re flummoxed by this _ludicrous_ request.

And you’re far too busy and important to simply let someone _be you_ , whatever the hell that means. In fact, you’re on the way to an important meeting right now.

With _whom?_

Why would your personal life be anyone’s business but your own?

Go on, now. _Shoo._

**== > Be her phone instead?**

You’re now Azula Sozin’s phone.

It is a device of fabulous make, one that not many students in this public university could afford, without daddy’s plastic.

It’s true that your owner DOES have access to riches belonging to her sire, but she hardly has the need for it. She’s been a successful entrepreneur since the age of seventeen, with a small fortune of her own. This is substantiated by the high level of correspondence you’re usually tasked to carry out.

**== > Man, who cares? Just spill the tea!**

Unable to resist this command, you begrudgingly disclose the very private, very important messages your owner has received in the last twenty-four hours.

**NOTIFICATIONS**

> You have (1) missed call from [Ty Lee].

> You have (3) missed calls from [Ayaka – Peach Tree Marketing].

> You have (2) missed calls from [Lee – Republic City Gazette].

> You have (4) missed calls from [unknown].

> You have (240) unread chats.

There’s no time to go through ALL of that, so you direct attention towards the key components contributing to the melodramatic clusterfuck that’s about to happen.

✉

\-- [Ty Lee] started messaging you at 9:23 hrs --

good morning, Azula!  
i can’t wait for dinner tonight!

D&G today, want to match? 😍

Good morning, Ty Lee.

  
That’s quite alright. I’m already dressed.  
Feels more like a B sort of day for me.

oooh, burberry?

Don’t be silly. Balenciaga, of course.

eeee!  
the new dress you bought last week?

show me!!!

[Image attached: Azula standing before her gigantic, gold-framed mirror, wearing an outrageously expensive Balenciaga outfit, tailored to fit her frame]

Yes.

you look soooo pretty!

it’s PERFECT on you!

I know.

Anyway.  
I’ll see you later, at 7:00 PM sharp.  
Don’t be late.

never! see you soon 😘💜

👌

✉

\-- [Ty Lee] started messaging you at 18:48 hrs -- 

oh my god

Azula!!!

What is it now?

You literally hugged me goodbye.  
Ten minutes ago.

i have some MAJOR tea

you’re going to flip!

And you didn’t tell me this during dinner because…?

i didn’t know then, silly! 🤣

anyway, look at this!

[Forwarded > Image attached: Sokka’s arm around Zuko as they walk through the crowded Moon Bay Mall, taken from the third floor]

it’s zuko!!!

he’s with that cutie from the football team

ngl, i’m kind of sad cuz he’s been my ec for a while

but i’m also happy bc they look sooo cute together  
😍😍😍

This certainly is… interesting.

Thank you for sharing this with me.

of course! 💜

i tell you everything, you know that!

✉

\-- [Azula] started messaging [Group Chat: RUSC Top Brass] at 18:51 hrs --

[Azula]: Ladies.

[Azula]: It’s time for an intervention.

[Yue]: Good day to you too, Azula.

[Mai]: ugh. please tell me this isn’t about zuko.

[Azula]: Oh, Mai.

[Azula]: Don’t be dramatic.

\-- [Mai] has left the group! --

\-- [Azula] added [Mai] to the group. --

[Azula]: A futile effort.

[Mai]: fuck you

[Azula]: No, thank you.

[Azula]: Anyway. This IS important so if you’d just cooperate.

[Azula]: I’d be grateful.

[Mai]: whatever.

[Yue]: Can someone please explain what’s going on?

[Yue]: I have no idea what’s happening.

[Azula]: You never do.

[Yue]: Fuck you!

[Mai]: get to the point already…

[Azula]: It seems that my brother has started fornicating with your ex-boyfriend, Yue.

[Azula]: You know. The one with the stupid hair.

[Yue]: His name’s SOKKA. Don’t pretend like you don’t know who he is.

[Yue]: And honestly. Why should I care?

[Azula]: Really?

[Azula]: It doesn’t bother you at all?

[Yue]: No. Sokka and I are… friends now.

[Yue]: I think.

[Yue]: I mean, sure. It didn’t end well. But we’re fine.

[Azula]: So you’re going to let the fact that he dumped you for that floozy tomboy slide?

[Azula]: He cheated on you while you were in a COMA, Yue.

[Azula]: Call me crazy, but I don’t think you have, or ever will, ‘move on’ from that.

[Azula]: And now he’s moved onto another target. My BROTHER.

[Azula]: Huh. I wonder if the floozy knows.

[Yue]: You mean, Suki? I don’t know. We don’t talk outside of the club.

[Yue]: I’ll admit. I can’t say I like her very much.

[Yue]: But that doesn’t matter!

[Yue]: Sokka and I are FINE now.

[Yue]: It was just a misunderstanding.

[Azula]: If that’s what you want to call it.

[Azula]: But, Yue?

[Azula]: You’re a terrible liar, even over text.

[Azula]: Denial isn’t a good look on you.

[Yue]: Ugh!

[Yue]: Fine. I’ll at least listen to what you have to say.

[Azula]: Was there ever any doubt?

[Azula]: And Mai?

[Azula]: You know what would happen if this got out.

[Azula]: I know you still care about Zuzu.

[Azula]: Imagine if word reached my Father…

[Mai]: … what do you even want us to do?

[Azula]: Meet me at my apartment tonight, 10:00 PM sharp.

[Azula]: And don’t be late.

**== > Be Katara.**

Your name is Katara. And you’re worried about your brother.

He’s been acting… strangely.

Well, even more so than usual. Especially tonight. 

You figured he would be tired, after all the lab work he's done tonight. You had expected him to whine about missing Movie Night, or complain about how tumultuous his schedule was, or some hardass professor (of which there were many). 

But no. Quite the opposite, in fact. At least, for the most part.

There had been that weird burst of anger upon arriving home, grumbling under his breath about jerky fuckboys who took pictures without consent (maybe something happened in the locker rooms) (ugh, MACHISMO). But his fury had passed almost instantaneously. He checked his phone again, started making 'goo goo eyes' at the screen and that was that.

When you asked for an explanation, he brushed you off. 

And now, here he was, staying up late, giggling on the living room couch like a madman. He always has his phone nearby, which doesn’t strike you as odd since he’s absolutely addicted to social media—but he seems to be _talking_ to someone.

You have no idea who it could be because you know Toph doesn’t like to stay up late. And Suki keeps her Last Seen on, so you know it isn’t her. Aang goes to sleep early and he’s your boyfriend, for crying out loud. So it definitely isn’t him, either.

As much as you want to investigate right now (basically, march up to him and demand answers), you have a test in the morning. Also, you weren't stupid. Sokka needed his space. Clearly, whoever it was he was texting, they were important to him. A new flame, perhaps. 

You just hope it goes well, this time. Sokka deserved happiness, after having his heart broken, _twice_.

You figure you’ll let this rest for the time being.

**== > Katara: Go to bed.**

You slide under the covers and exhale a sigh of relief as your eyelids slide shut. School is exhausting. Sleep was precious.

Slowly… you drift off…

You don’t notice your phone going off, having turned on ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode like any reasonable person would before bedtime. Or maybe because you’re still a student, and emergency, unreasonable demands from your workplace in the wee hours of the morning still aren’t a thing.

Nevertheless, the message goes unnoticed for now. In the morning, you might wonder how exactly this person got your number when you were so sure you’d finally been rid of him completely.

**NOTIFICATIONS**

> You have (1) unread chats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. Who d'you reckon that might be?


End file.
